Everything Burns
by criminalxxxmindsxxxfreak
Summary: The Joker escapes Arkham and with Batman being hunted down and two FBI agents already there, Gordon calls in the BAU out of desperation. But when the Joker takes an interest in Reid, things take a turn for the worse. Follow up to According to Plan. Dark.
1. Out With a BANG!

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **First things first, this is a sequel/follow up to my oneshot "According to Plan" and it would probably be beneficial to you if you read that first.

Secondly, to everyone who reviewed/favorited "According to Plan": THANKS! I seriously did not expect such a response to it. I was aiming for 3 or 4 reviews and I got 30. So you guys made my day. And I am thrilled that you all liked it. Several of you wanted me to continue it, so… here it is.

Be warned that I have not read a Batman comic since I was probably 8 or 9, so my memory may be a bit fuzzy on some aspects. However, since this is technically set in the "Nolanverse" that's almost kind of irrelevant and I've seen "The Dark Knight" several times.

Now, onto more important things… Once again, this is set somewhere in season 7 (BEFORE the episode "True Genius" because I haven't seen any episodes after it) for "Criminal Minds" and I'm going to guestimate about 5, 5 and a half months after the end of "The Dark Knight".

And yes, Bruce Wayne/Batman will be in this fic. However, since I have never written him before, I'm counting on you guys to tell me how good/terrible a job I did.

There will be lots of focus on the Joker (because he is my favorite Batman villain and… actually, my favorite villain period. Tied with the Master from Doctor Who of course) and Reid, because, if you've ever read anything I've ever written then, duh. :P

I apologize for the horrendously long Author's Note, hopefully you'll enjoy the read, PLEASE REVIEW! I thrive off of opinions, lol.

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><p><em>You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain<br>_**-Harvey Dent, TDK**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Out With a BANG!<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_"Agent Morgan and I will probably be back tomorrow," Reid said, once again catching the Joker's eyes. "And we __will __find out who you are," he assured him, "It's only a matter of time."_

_The Joker laughed, shaking his head, "Oh, Spencey," he said again, as if he were a parent admonishing his child, "You and I will have __**such**__fun… I really, really like you!"_

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><p>Bruce Wayne sat in the living room of his pent house, blue eyes focused on the television screen in front of him, a cup of coffee resting, nearly forgotten, in his right hand as he listened to the GCN newscaster speak.<p>

_"-Commissioner Gordon has confirmed that agents from the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit arrived yesterday to interview the Joker. The agents hope to find out more about the mysterious mass murderer and perhaps get a peek inside his mind. What exactly they hope to find, time will only tell, but taking other such attempts at analyzing the Joker into account, these agents will be spending a _lot _of time at Arkham._

_In other news, the bounty upon the infamous vigilante, Batman, has increased to three hundred thousand dollars. Mayor Garcia reports that the Gotham Police are working diligently on the case and –"_

Bruce sighed and muted the TV when Alfred walked into the room to stand beside him, carrying a tray with his breakfast on it. The older man smiled to himself and shook his head, "Watching the news again, Sir?" he asked as he sat the tray down beside the younger man.

Bruce's smile was slightly bitter, "Did you know about those FBI agents coming?"

Alfred glanced back at the now silent television, watching the captions run underneath the reporter's face for a moment before answering. "I hadn't heard, but it's not surprising, Master Wayne. They've had psychologists from all over the country flying in to talk to the Joker,"

Bruce nodded absently, "Sometimes I think the only person who can understand the Joker is himself," he said. Though it had been months since the Joker had been apprehended and locked away in Arkham, Bruce still couldn't rid himself of that persistent, paranoid feeling that the murderous clown wasn't finished with Gotham – or the Batman – just yet.

"Well," Alfred said, turning his attention back to the young billionaire, "He's Arkham's problem now, Master Wayne. The streets have been much quieter with him locked up."

Bruce looked up at his butler, meeting the man's eyes and smiling faintly, "Maybe, but the mob's still out there. And with Harvey gone and Batman being hunted down…" he trailed off, his blue eyes getting dark. The streets of Gotham had been dangerous enough without the Joker and in the madman's absence, things hadn't changed all that much. Despite his best efforts, being a hunted man – a _seriously_ hunted man – made his life as Batman far more difficult than it had been before.

Alfred smiled reassuringly down at Bruce, nodding, "Things will improve, Sir. The city just needs time to readjust, you'll see. Soon, the Joker will be a long forgotten nightmare and they'll remember why they need Batman. One day,"

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>"I don't know what you really expect to get out of him, Agents," Commissioner Gordon said, sitting across from the two FBI agents who'd arrived the previous day to speak with Arkham's infamous inmate. "He said about all he has to say yesterday."<p>

Derek Morgan shook his head, "We can get him to talk," he assured the commissioner, "And if he still wants to, we can't just turn him down."

Gordon almost snorted, looking down and flipping through a few sheets of paper – notes that the young Dr. Reid had written and given him after their first interview with the Joker the day before. "I can't imagine why not. The Joker is a madman, he killed and threatened the lives of thousands of Gotham's citizens. We don't have to cater to his whims."

"I agree," Morgan nodded, "But studying the UnSubs like him is what we do in the BAU. It's how we develop profiles and help catch criminals."

Gordon frowned, lifting up one particular sheet of paper and staring at it for a moment before looking back up, nodding. "I don't see what you think you'll learn, but your welcome to try as long as Arkham will allow it. The Joker's been visited by so many college psychology students and doctors that he's becoming his own tourist attraction." The commissioner sneered at the thought, annoyed at the nearly worship-like level of fascination so many people held for the terrorist who'd nearly destroyed his city.

After a moment's pause, Gordon looked up from the paper in his hands and over at the younger FBI agent who'd so far been silent in this meeting, "Why do you believe the Joker's past is so important?" he asked him, nodding to the notes which contained several questions and theories about exactly who the Joker may have been.

"His past can tell us a lot about who he is," Reid explained, shifting in his seat, "Maybe even why he does the things that he does. The Joker didn't just wake up one morning and decide to become a mass murderer. Something happened that created him."

Gordon frowned, looking back down at the notes, "His scars…" he mused quietly.

Reid nodded, "Knowing how he got those scars is probably the biggest piece of the puzzle,"

At that, Gordon did laugh, a faint, half-laugh. "Good luck with that, Doctor," he said, "By our accounts, the Joker's told several different versions of that particular story."

"And none of them are likely true," Reid told him, "Although, they may hold elements of the truth, it's doubtful that even one of them is entirely accurate."

Gordon pursed his lips, thoughtfully eyeing the agents, "Then how can you trust that what he tells you is going to be true?" he asked.

Reid glanced at Morgan briefly before answering. "We don't,"

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>It was nearly noon when Reid and Morgan once again found themselves in Arkham Asylum, being led by a guard – a different one from the previous day – down the stained white halls to the interrogation room, which, incidentally, was also where one-on-one therapy sessions were held. And where the Joker was currently being interviewed.<p>

The guard that led them to the room punched in the security code to open it and stepped inside, glancing toward the Joker's doctor, Dr. Tatum McGuire, a middle-aged balding man sporting a pair of half-moon spectacles that gave him a scholarly and owlish look. He was standing in the room, looking somewhat tense due to the close proximity of his patient, behind a young woman with blond hair who turned, with wide eyes, when the door was opened.

"Dr. McGuire, the BAU agents are here," the guard reminded the doctor.

The older man blinked for a moment and then nodded, "Of course, of course, Miss Quinzel, you'll have to finish your interview another time, I'm afraid."

The young woman pouted slightly, looking reluctant to stand from her seat, but at a sharp look from the guard she did so, glancing back at the Joker, who smiled widely and winked at her. The girl blushed and turned away, following Dr. McGuire and the guard back into the hall where she nearly ran right into Reid.

"Sorry," the young doctor blushed and stumbled back slightly as the woman brushed a fallen strand hair out of her face. She was a pretty woman, her blond hair short and pulled back in a somewhat messy braid, her wide blue eyes sweet and kind.

She smiled up at Reid, a bright, dazzling smile, "It's my fault," she said, brushing off his apology, "Dr. Harleen Quinzel." She introduced herself, holding her hand out to the agent. Reid awkwardly took it, his palm slightly sweaty. "You can call me Harley,"

"Dr. Spencer Reid," Reid stuttered through his own introduction, mentally screaming at himself for being so ridiculously hopeless around women. He removed his hand from hers, resisting the urge he had to wipe his palm on his pants.

"You seem young to be a doctor," he noted.

She smiled, dimples popping in her cheeks, "I just graduated," she admitted, "Gotham State… And I could say the same about you."

Reid could feel his face heating slightly and he shrugged it off, trying to remind himself that she was just a women. An attractive woman with big blue eyes and a beautiful smile… He almost had to shake his head to regain his train of thought.

Morgan grinned, watching the two of them before taking Reid's elbow gently, "C'mon, Pretty Boy, we've got work to do," he teased, pulling his young colleague forward.

Harley winked at Reid, "Nice to meet you, Spencer," she called after him as she followed Dr. McGuire down the halls, escorted by the guard, to speak with his other patients. She looked back over her shoulder as the door closed and sighed heavily, her blue eyes sad.

Back inside the large, grey interrogation room Reid and Morgan approached the grinning Joker. He looked the same as he had the day before – dirty blond hair, still faintly tinged green, falling near his shoulders in messy, kinky curls that looked as if they needed to be washed; gruesome scars etched across his face sinisterly; eye wide and bright as they fell on the two agents, a grin spreading and stretching his marred features.

"Spencey you came back!" He grinned wide, staring directly at the younger man as he took the seat that Harley had previously been sitting in. Morgan took the opposite seat, this time opting to be closer to the Joker's level when talking to him.

Slowly, the Joker turned his head to stare at the dark skinned man, his face somewhat sour when he eyed him.

"And you brought your friend again," he said, almost pouting as he glanced back at Reid, "Y'know, Spencey, to be honest, I was kinda hoping it could just be the _two_ of us again. Mr. _Serious_ over there doesn't seem to _like_ me much."

Morgan growled low in his throat, knowing that he shouldn't let this man get to him, but there was just something about him that got under the agent's skin. Maybe it was that arrogant grin, that intense look in his eyes. Or maybe it was the manic laugh that really got on his nerves. Either way, he didn't like the feeling he got being near him.

"Plus," the Joker continued, grinning wide at Morgan's glare, "I was, uh, in the middle of something, y'see. _Harley _was talking to me…" he paused for a moment, his eyes sparkling, "She's a nice girl. Not too bright through, if you ask me. Got a few _screws _loose, poor thing."

Reid's brows scrunched together in confusion and Morgan frowned, "You're one to talk," he told him.

The Joker gasped, looking hurt and frowning at Morgan, shaking his head. "Derek, I'm… I'm offended. I _told _you yesterday, I'm _not _crazy," he grinned suddenly, turning his attention back to Reid and leaning forward, propping his head up with his chained hands, elbows resting on the table.

"S_oooo_, Spencey," he let the 'y' drag out like he had the previous day, his red tongue darting out to run across his lips and trace the jagged line of his scars. "You just couldn't stay away, _could _you? I knew it." He giggled, his eyes wide and staring right into Reid's, "I _knew _you'd be back."

Reid tilted his head, once again having to remind himself to stay calm and not react as he stared back into the monster's eyes, feeling oddly as if the Joker could penetrate his very thoughts with that look.

"That's because I told you I would be," Reid countered coolly, never once looking away.

The Joker let out a barked laugh, abruptly shifting in his seat and banging his hands on the table a few times, grinning at Reid as if he'd just told him the funniest joke he'd ever heard. "You _did _tell me that, didn't you?" he beamed at him, "But I wasn't so sure, Spencey. I didn't know if you could be _trusted_ or not."

Another half-giggle bubbled past his scarred lips and he tilted his head, still staring intently at Reid, something akin to fascination in his eyes. "And now I know you can. _You _are a man of your _word, _Spencey. I _like _that," Another fit of giggles threatened to attack the madman and he grinned even wider.

"Does that mean you'll tell me who you are?" Reid asked, raising a brow as he watched the Joker.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, still smiling at them, "Str_aight_ to business then…" he mused, sitting back in his chair and letting his shackled hands fall over his stomach, fingers lacing together. Reid raised a brow at him as he made a show of pondering the question.

He sighed heavily, giving Reid a regretful look as he pressed his lips together somberly, "'_Fraid _not, Spencey," he said, holding his face in that sad expression, "I still don't _reeeaaallly _know you, kiddo… My mommy _always _told me to n_ever _talk to _strange_rs."

For a moment, his lips twitched and Reid and Morgan watched as he suddenly burst out laughing again, his entire body shaking as he fought to catch his breath between bouts of his delirious fit. His eyes were watery and faint tears were trailing down his cheek. He promptly wiped them away with the back of a chained hand and took several deep breaths, composing himself, sitting up and leaning forward, once more placing his elbows on the table.

Reid was afforded another extremely close up view of the madman's scarred face. His hazel eyes fixed on the dark, jagged lines and the Joker grinned widely when he noticed. He lifted his shackled hands and traced his index finger along the scar on his left cheek, "Frightening, aren't they?" his voice was surprising soft.

Reid tore his eyes away from the marks and met the Joker's dark, incredibly intense eyes. The murderous clown leaned in closer and Morgan fought the urge to shove him back, watching the interaction silently, tensed in case he needed to do anything.

"Do you wanna know how I got 'em?" the Joker asked, wide eyed, no trace of a smile on his lips as he nodded slowly. Reid didn't answer, just staring into his eyes, finding himself wondering exactly what was going through the man's mind as his lips parted and he leaned up a bit, starting to tell his story.

His eyes roved upward to the ceiling briefly and then dropped back to Reid, "One night me and my wife were walking home from the movies," he said, something in his eyes that made both Morgan and Reid frown thoughtfully. "She was beautiful…" and there it was again. Reid realized that what he was hearing was sincerity. Of course, that didn't mean that the story the Joker was telling was true, but it did mean that some part of it held some connection to him. Reid was willing to bet it was the "wife" he mentioned.

"It was late, and you know how _**this**__ city _gets dangerous when it's _dark_ out. Well, we ran into these thugs and they started hassling us. My wife, she was _crying_ and I had to be the man, I had to _protect _her. So I gave 'em my wallet and told 'em to leave us alone."

And something dark passed over the Joker's face and he leaned in very close again, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, still unsmiling, "They _laughed_. Told us we needed to relax, _smile _a little… Then one of 'em comes after my wife with a _knife_. I stepped in to stop him and he didn't like that…" he trailed off thoughtfully, lifting his hand once again to trace the scars, left to right, "He does this to me, his friends all laughing while he does it and he tells me to lighten up, it's just a _joke_."

He leaned back again, watching the agents, his eyes still riveted to Reid, waiting for their reaction to his tale.

Reid tilted his head, trying not to think of the images that had just assaulted his mind as he'd thought about the horrible story that the Joker had just told him. He forced his voice to remain even as he spoke, "And that's how you got those scars?" he asked.

The Joker nodded, "Ye_p_," he said, grinning now, letting the 'p' pop in his mouth.

Reid glanced to Morgan and then shook his head, "I doubt it," he said, watching while the Joker raised a brow and sat forward again, curiously waiting to hear what Reid had to say next. "Although, since that's the second time you've told that story and included a wife you were probably married at one point… Do you think she'd like to see you now?"

The Joker's grin widened and he chuckled, "You're a _smart _one aren't you, _Spencey_?" he asked teasingly, ignoring the young agent's question altogether.

Reid frowned, "Why won't you tell us about your past?" he asked, "Why tell all these different stories? Wouldn't the truth be easier?"

The Joker looked thoughtful once more and he smiled brightly, leaning forward, "Well, _Spencey_, not really," he admitted finally.

Reid's brows scrunched together, confused by that statement. Morgan leaned in, staring at the terrorist, "Why not?" he demanded.

The Joker turned his eyes away from Reid briefly to look at the agent, his dislike clear in his dark eyes even as he grinned bright. He looked away just as quickly and turned back to face Reid, letting out a small giggle before he answered, "Because… sometimes I remember it _one_ way, sometimes _another_… if I'm going to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice!"**(1)**

And yet another fit of giggling gurgles escaped the Joker's torn lips, his eyes shining brightly as he doubled over, clutching his stomach with his chained hands. His insane laughter went on for a long minute before he finally leaned up, gasping and wheezing slightly, trying to catch his breath.

Morgan frowned at the clown distastefully, shaking his head as he sat back up fully, calm once more and grinning like the madman he was. "You done?" he asked… well, snarled.

The Joker paused, tilted his head and frowned mockingly, "Hm, I don't know, Derek… lemme see…" the Joker held his breath for a moment, his eyes wide, and then he nodded, "Yep. I think so."

He paused for a second, his face uncharacteristically serious and somber, before he tilted his back, an ear splitting grin stretching his face, and laughed a loud, raucous and obviously fake laugh. His eyes sparkled as Morgan clenched his fists and growled low in his throat as the Joker's demented laugh echoed through the room.

"Ahahaha he ho, hee-_haha_, ooh, ho-_ha_, ah-_ha_…" The laughter seemed to radiate from within an endless recess inside the Joker's very soul as the fake laughter slowly became a deranged fit of giggles and the man doubled over once more, clutching at his sides as if trying to hold his body together.

"_Haha_!" He breathed between laughs, sitting up and grinning at Morgan, "Oh, A-_gent_ Morgan! You- Your f-f_ace! _I'm – i- in st- _stitches!"_ The Joker's chains were rattling and clanking together as he laughed and laughed, apparently unable or unwilling to stop the insane fit as it washed over him. Reid watched in silence, not entirely sure if the fit of laughter was voluntary or some strange form of seizer.

Morgan had had enough and slammed his fist down on the table, shaking it and causing both Reid and the Joker to jump in their seats, startled. Morgan's dark, narrowed eyes glared at the murderer.

"Enough!" he snapped, the skin on his knuckles tight as he glowered at him. "If you aren't going to take this seriously, we can leave, Joker." The FBI agent warned, "We don't have time to waste over this nonsense."

The Joker stared at him, that wide, insane grin still in place and he leaned forward very slowly, getting as close to Derek's face as he could, "Serious?" he whispered the word, lips twitching as he staved off another giggle-fit. "Oh, _Derek, _I am taking this _very _sear-_ee_-us in_deed. _You have no idea just how sear-_ee_-us this is…"

There was a dark, malicious glint in his dark eyes as he smiled, more a knowing, taunting smirk than a smile now, and leaned back in his chair, turning that sharp gaze back to Reid. He regarded him silently for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"Do you have the time?" he asked suddenly.

Reid and Morgan frowned, glancing at each other with furrowed brows. "The time?" Reid asked, raising a brow quizzically, "Why do you want to know that?"

The Joker's sly smirk grew and he shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes burned into Reid's with all the intensity of a man with a purpose. "Well_lll_, I've got another ap-_point_-ment to be getting to soon. Wouldn't want to be late, now _would _I?"

"What other appointment?" Morgan demanded.

"11:56," Reid said at the same time, pausing a moment, glancing at his watch and looking back up, "11:57."

The Joker frowned, sitting back in his seat and shaking his head, "Can't rely on anyone these days," he said with a humph, "When will _people _learn that being pun-_ctual _is something to be _valued?_ Time is such a _precious _thing and they go and _waste _it."

He clucked his tongue and Reid and Morgan glanced at one another anxiously, not entirely sure if they were witnessing some schizophrenic laps in the Joker's mental processing or if he was simply trying to put them on edge.

A moment later a loud alarm sounded, blaring through from the speakers outside the room and the Joker's grin stretched to impossible proportions, a strange, manic laugh bubbling up out of his chest.

"Here we _go_!" he practically shouted over the alarm as Morgan and Reid both jumped from their feet and raced across the room the door, trying to get it open as Reid held his hand down on the alarm that was supposed to alert the guard outside that something was wrong.

"What's going on?" Morgan demanded, peering through the window and seeing an empty hall. The guard that had once been posted there was nowhere in sight and the hall was entirely empty all around them.

Reid took his hand off the buzzer and turned back, brows furrowed in confusion and fear. He met the Joker's gleaming eyes and saw an excitement there that sent chills down his spine as the other man grinned and his red tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips. Morgan was banging on the door, trying to pry it open and silently wishing he had his gun – he could just try to shoot through the metal then.

Slowly, Reid stepped away from the door and back toward the table where the Joker sat, chained and grinning like the madman he was, dark eyes fixed on the young agent. Somehow, Reid knew that whatever had happened, the Joker was behind it. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to tear his gaze away from the other man's as his eyes seemed to burn into his very soul, but he couldn't seem to look away.

"What did you do?" he asked, his voice surprisingly calm given that his heart was apparently trying to make a mad dash from his chest.

The Joker just smiled, raising his brows and throwing his chained hands up defensively, "_Me?_" he asked, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual, eyes shining, "What could _I _have done? I've been, uh, _tied up _lately, Spencey."

Reid shook his head still staring into the clown's eyes, "That doesn't mean you didn't have a part in this," he said slowly, "What's going on?"

"What'_ssssss _going on?" The Joker repeated, tapping his chin thoughtfully, dark eyes still riveted to Reid as Morgan slowly turned from the door to watch them. He looked between the Joker and Reid and couldn't help but think it was like there was some sort of invisible string linking the two of them together.

The Joker tilted his head, "You got the time?" he asked again.

This time, Reid didn't bother to ask why he needed it, he just glanced down at his watch and then back up at the Joker. "12:01," he said.

The Joker grinned, laughing softly, "Well then, Spencey… What's going _on _is that this place is about to go _**up**_. I'd… hold on to my _head _if I were you!" He burst into another delirious fit of laughter that echoed around the room, but the sound was quickly drowned out as the ground seemed to quake beneath them and the two agents were thrown across the room as a huge blast from behind them sent the door and wall flying.

The Joker's hair was blown back as debris from the bomb flew by his and the table and chair were knocked backwards, tipping him over in his seat. His manic laugh echoes, chillingly, down the halls of Arkham as his head landed with a _thwack _on the floor and a burst of flame nearly blinded everyone in the room. He continued laughing, unable to stop as the chaos around him grew to epic proportions and somehow the sound of that laugh was even worse than the explosions going off periodically throughout the building.

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: **So, there it is. The first (loooong) chapter of "Everything Burns". Hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

**(1) **This line isn't mine, it's from "The Killing Joke" where they give one of the Joker's many possible origins. It's one of my favorite lines and it just seemed so appropriate here, so I used it.

Alright, a bit more info real quick: I'm going to explore the Joker's origin a bit in this fic (if not a lot). Seeing as no one (not even, apparently, the Joker) _really _knows who the Joker was before he was The Joker, I'm going to take a little bit of liberty here and considering this is the origin for the "Nolanverse" Joker where literally _no one _knew who he used to be, I think that's fair, right? I will use the name Jack Napier for the Joker's former-self. It's pretty much accepted that that was his name before he became who he is, so it makes sense that that's who he'd be here too. (But exactly who Jack is, that I shall have fun developing).

And yes, I included Harley Quinn ;) I kind of had to. She's not in the Nolanverse but she'd have to show up eventually if they put the Joker in Arkham. So, yes, she shall be in this fic a fair bit, but I don't know how big her role will be (if all goes 'according to plan', she'll be a nice supporting character with a big part to play). And I'd like to point out, again, having not read a comic in years I'm basing her off of fuzzy memories and internet searches, so if she's a bit OOC I hope it's forgivable. And I'm taking liberties with her character anyway, this is _my _version of Harley and she may be a little different from the comics (or the cartoons, come to think of it).

Anyway, sorry for yet another terribly long author's note, just wanted to get that out there real quick.

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Please let me know what you think!


	2. Escape Artist

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **Thanks so much for all of the lovely reviews guys! You're all amazing and I love you! I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter! Now, onward to chapter two!

Also, I forgot to mention last chapter, but Dr. Tatum McGuire is entirely my own character. You probably already knew that, and he's not going to have a large role anyway, but it's worth mentioning that he doesn't belong to CBS, DC or Christopher Nolan. Which is probably why he's not as cool as all the other borrowed characters, lol.

Anyway, thanks for your reviews! Keep 'em coming guys, they feed my muse!

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Escape Artist<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_The Joker's hair was blown back as debris from the bomb flew by his and the table and chair were knocked backwards, tipping him over in his seat. His manic laugh echoed, chillingly, down the halls of Arkham as his head landed with a __**thwack**__ on the floor and a burst of flame nearly blinded everyone in the room. He continued laughing, unable to stop as the chaos around him grew to epic proportions and somehow the sound of that laugh was even worse than the explosions going off periodically throughout the building._

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><p>As the smoke settled in the interrogation room, two dark clad figures stepped through the ruined wall, both carrying assault rifles and wearing brightly colored clown masks that clashed horribly with the seriousness of the situation.<p>

The Joker lay in his chair, on his back, still secure in his chains. There was a rather large gash on his forehead that was bleeding profusely, but his manic laugh continued to fill the room eerily, bouncing off the walls.

The two men glanced at the FBI agents lying amongst the rubble and debris. They were definitely still breathing and one of them was beginning to stir from his prone position on the ground.

One of the goons lifted his rifle, about to shoot the slender young man, when the Joker's laughter suddenly died away and his sharp voice stilled the man's finger over the trigger.

"Leave 'em," he ordered.

The man lowered his gun, glancing across to the murderous clown. "Boss?" confusion was clear in his tone, despite his face being obscured by the brightly smiling mask.

"Don't just stand there, '_gents_!" the Joker shook his chains, the metallic sound echoing through the room. "Get me _**up**_! We've got _work _to do!"

The men let their guns hang from the straps across their backs and quickly rushed to their boss's side, neither eager to find out what the punishment would be if they made him angry. The smaller of the two knelt by the madman's head and began working at the locks on the handcuffs with a small pin, while the larger goon, wearing a brightly painted mask of a crying clown, bent his head to fumble with the locks on the ankle restraints.

It took several minutes of hard work and muttered swears and threats from the Joker, which did nothing to aid their progress and in fact probably hindered it a bit. But eventually, the cuffs fell free and luckily, none of the guards, injured, dead or simply knocked out, had come running to stop them just yet.

As the Joker grinned broadly and stood, stretching his stiff and aching limbs, he cast his eyes back down to the FBI agents, a small laugh bubbling up when he saw that they were waking.

He held out a hand and snapped his fingers expectantly to the smaller man, who was confused for a moment until the Joker grunted and turned his dark, murderous eyes on him, "My _knife_," he hissed, his tone lethal and sharp.

The small man seemed to jump and he dug around in the pockets of his overcoat, fingers fumbling as the Joker grunted and growled impatiently, muttering death threats under his breath until the man was sweating beneath his mask, terror causing his heart-rate to spike considerably as he finally found the small knife, silver blade glinting in the dim light.

As soon as the Joker's eager fingers wrapped around the hilt of the weapon his eyes lit with a maniacal light, his grin growing somehow even more sinister. The knife fit remarkably well in his palm and he twirled it around, slashing it through the air a few times, pure joy lighting his features as his tongue darted out to lick his curved lips in anticipation.

The two masked criminals watched their boss, anxious to get out of the building before someone came along. It had been nearly ten minutes now since the initial blast. At the very least, the fire department would be on their way, if they weren't already there. But the Joker seemed content taking his time as he knelt next to the semiconscious young doctor and rolled him onto his back, grinning brightly as he groaned and his hazel eyes fluttered.

Gently, almost lovingly, the Joker placed the tip of the blade against the young man cheek and waited a moment, slapping him in the jaw, for him to open his eyes fully. Pain swirled in their depths and it was obvious the young agent was injured but that wasn't any of his concern.

"_There _we are, Spencey!" he cried, grinning, trailing the knife lower until it rested at his throat. His dark eyes were wide with fascination and anticipation. Reid's hazel eyes rolled in his head, trying to stay focused on the source of the voice, but not quite able to.

The Joker gently patted his cheek, lips twitching, "I just wanted to say _thanks, __**Spencey**_."

"Uh, Boss…" the taller man cleared his throat and the Joker looked up sharply, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Wha_t_ is _it_?" he snapped angrily.

The man swallowed loudly and nodded to the door where the sounds of heavy, running feet and shouting voices could just be made out from several corridors away. "Sounds like the cops are comin'," the man said, sounding just a bit nervous.

The Joker made a face and sighed, his eyes falling on Derek when the large agent groaned loudly. He grit his teeth and turned back to Reid, smiling at the still not-quite-there young doctor. He leaned down close, putting his face right on top of his and his putrid breath brushed across Reid's face, causing the younger man to cough and wrinkle his nose slightly.

"See you _**soon**__, Doc._" He teased, jumping up to his feet quickly and glancing around the demolished room. Using the knife in his hands as a gesturing tool, he turned his back to his men and jerked the blade forward, "Let's _go, _boys!" he shouted, a wide smile on his face as he laughed, "Busy, busy, _busy!"_

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><p>Jim Gordon was in his office, still reading over notes that Dr. Reid had given him. Despite what little the Joker had said the previous day, the young man had been able to spin several detailed theories about what his life may have been like before he became the Joker. He insisted that it would be worth their while to look into past cases of child and spousal abuse and perhaps even try and find out if the wife he'd mentioned existed at all.<p>

Gordon snorted at that part, shaking his head. He couldn't imagine any woman marrying a man like the Joker. Even if he hadn't been a murdering lunatic before he'd gotten married, there surely would have been some sign of his massive instability. Men don't just become monsters overnight.

He winced, glancing up the window behind him. It was still fairly bright outside, hardly after noon yet, but the Commissioner could imagine the dark night sky over Gotham and the bright floodlight on the top of MCU that hadn't been used in nearly six months. He sighed heavily and turned back to the notes when a young officer rapped on the door and pushed it open.

"Commissioner," the young man appeared to be out of breath as he stood there, "There's a problem at Arkham."

Gordon was immediately on his feet, "What kind of problem?"

"Explosions, sir," the young man says, "Half the hospital's been demolished. The fire department's there now. Several inmates are unaccounted for."

The commissioner swore loudly and snatched his gun from where it had been lying on his desk, his eyes sharp and bright as fire behind his glasses as he slid it into his holster and motioned for the officer to walk with him.

They briskly left the office, Gordon's mind working overtime on all the horrible possibilities, "How many casualties?" he asked.

"We aren't sure, Sir. Six doctors have been pulled out so far, burned. A few inmates as well. Three dead, maybe more,"

Gordon frowned, his mustache twitching slightly. He ran a hand over his face, trying hard to remain levelheaded. "What about the Joker?" he demanded. This bombing had the clown written all over it. He didn't want to imagine the panic that his escape would incite.

The young officer bit his lip nervously, "No sign of him yet, Sir," he admitted, "But the fire department's still working on clearing their way back to the interrogation rooms. He was with those two FBI agents when the bombs went off."

Gordon swore loudly again. The interrogation rooms were far away from the main patient quarters and doctors' offices. The Joker wouldn't have likely been killed; they're only hope was that the bombs had left the rooms intact and if he'd planned this, then that was a slim hope indeed.

"Alright, I want units heading that way now. We're going to search the hospital and its immediate vicinity. Get the injured out and to a hospital as quickly as possible. Our top priority is catching the escaped inmates. If the Joker's gone, he can't have gotten too far yet…" He hoped, anyway.

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><p>Bruce was just coming out of the shower, his dark hair still damp and shirt only partially buttoned up when he glanced at the television screen and froze. The image of Arkham Asylum dominated the screen, fires blazing, walls crumbling in many of the older sections of the hospital. Fire trucks and police cars and ambulances gathered near the entrances, reporters gathered back behind the gate, calling out for a statement.<p>

He could see people being carried out on gurneys, some in body bags that had been zipped all the way up.

He swallowed roughly and his fists clenched as he reached for the remote and turned the volume back up, his heart seizing in his chest as he listened to the words the news caster was saying.

_"-still unclear. Officials have yet to give a statement, but it is believed that no less than five inmates escaped during the confusion following the blasts. Mayor Garcia assures us that the Gotham police are seeing to the matter and hope to re-capture the escapees shortly. No identities have been given as to the missing inmates yet, however, and no definitive answer has been given as to the source of the bombs. All we can do is urge citizens to stay indoors and be careful."_

The billionaire's throat was tight as his mind was assaulted with images of a grotesquely painted face, his ears ringing with the sound of bombs and a manic laugh. He could only hope that the Joker hadn't escaped.

He whirled around when he heard his butler enter the room, the older man's eyes fixed on the television screen with worry. He slowly turned to look at the younger man. "Going to be out late tonight, Sir?" he asked.

Bruce sighed, nodding and looking back at the screen. No less than five inmates… Batman was going to be very busy tonight.

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><p>Morgan's eyes fluttered open and he squinted, groaning loudly at the bright lights that were roving by over his head quickly. His eyes rolled around, trying to assess his surroundings. He was clearly no longer in the interrogation room, but where the hell was he? He heaved a major breath, grimacing as sharp pain shot through his chest, and looked around, his heart rate spiking when he saw absolutely no sign of Reid.<p>

He jerked at the soft touch on his arm and tried to pull his hands up to swat it away when, to his dismay, he realized his arms were strapped down and he was lying on some table that appeared to be moving quickly down a bright hall.

Faintly, as if he were underwater, he heard a soft, gentle voice speaking to him and his eyes rolled up to see a woman wearing hospital scrubs, her hair yanked back in a messy bun. She was standing next to his head, walking along side of him. He could see her mouth moving, but he couldn't hear anything. His ears were ringing and every other sound was muffled. He tried again to lift his hand and met her eyes, gasping and opening his mouth.

He tried to choke out the words "Where is he?" but couldn't manage it. And he wasn't even entirely sure which 'he' he was referring to anyway. Was it Reid? Or the Joker?

As soon as he thought of the Joker, the memories flashed in his mind, fire and bombs and crumbling concrete and the most insane laugh he'd ever heard echoing endlessly around the confines of his skull.

The nurse leaned closer, appearing to say something else, but Morgan barely even saw her lips move. His head was killing him, his chest ached and the ringing in his ears was only louder with the memory of the Joker's laugh. Before he could even try to tell her he couldn't hear anything, the agent's eyes rolled all the way back in his head and his body once again went limp.

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><p>"We're still pulling debris back from the northwest section," Detective Anna Ramirez said, glancing up at Gordon as he pushed his way through the corridor to the back, "But all hospital staff has been accounted for and all but six inmates are here."<p>

Gordon just nodded briskly, his eyes dark and determined, "Any word yet on those FBI agents?"

"Um," Ramirez chewed her lip, "We pulled them both out about half an hour ago, they're on the way to Gotham General."

She glanced down at her watch, "They should be there by now, actually."

At least they'd survived. Four hospital staff and two inmates hadn't been quite so lucky, not to mention the injured. Nearly everyone was hurt. Still, the fact that the agents had survived meant the Joker had too.

"This it?" Gordon asked, nodding to the ruined walls that had once been an interrogation room. He tried hard not to think about how long it would take to repair the damage done to Arkham and where the hell they were going to put the patients in the meantime.

The woman just nodded, pressing her lips together and watching as her boss stepped through the wreckage into the room. She swallowed roughly when he glanced back at her briefly with a small glint of suspicion in his eyes. She couldn't really blame him for it and looked away quickly. It was truly a miracle she even still had a job at all, after what had happened with Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes a few months ago. Gordon knew what she had done, but hadn't even broached the subject yet, which made her increasingly uncomfortable around him.

The commissioner looked around and knelt down. There was blood, but not a lot, and certainly not enough to suggest any serious injuries had been sustained. What interested him, however, was what littered the floor, lying among the rubble mockingly.

He reached down and plucked a playing card from the ground. One of many that had been left scattered in the room, erasing all doubt of who was responsible for this mess. His eyes blazed as he stared down at the card, the taunting image of a laughing jester staring back at him. Gordon's jaw tightened and he stood, flinging the card back to the ground and swearing loudly.

This day could not possibly get any worse.

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><p>Reid woke slowly, his body feeling heavy as his eyelids opened languidly. At first, he wasn't sure where he was or why he wasn't back in the interrogation room with Morgan and the Joker, but as his eyes made their way around the stark white room to the pale pink door with the metallic handle and the horrible, puke colored green and white floor tiles to the IV currently sticking into his hand, he realized that he was in a hospital.<p>

Blinking several times, the young doctor pushed himself up slowly, every muscle protesting as he did so, his chest crying out in pain the most fiercely. He felt as if all the air had been knocked out of him as he looked around the room.

He couldn't remember much, which terrified him just a bit. There were snatches of memories. A bomb going off, the Joker's malicious laugh, dark, piercing eyes locked onto his… And a faint, oddly pitched voice whispering "See you soon," in his ear.

For some reason, that made him shiver unconsciously.

Even without remembering every single thing, he could pretty much piece together what had happened. The Joker had hired someone to get him out. He'd somehow managed to get bombs placed in and around Arkham without anyone noticing, which likely meant someone on the inside was helping him. Then he'd set up the interview with the BAU to sure that he'd be in the interrogation rooms when the attack started. Being so far away and nearly separate from the rest of the hospital, the rooms were the safest place he could be. After that, Reid wasn't too sure. What had happened to the Joker? Was he caught? Had he escaped? And where was Morgan?

A flash of his partner lying unconscious on the ground sent a pang to Reid's chest that had nothing to do with his injuries.

Suddenly the hospital door opened and in whirled a young nurse wearing pale green hospital scrubs, her dark hair braided tightly down her head. She smiled at him, picking his chart up from the end of the bed and consulting it briefly before beginning to fiddle with his IV and check all the machines currently monitoring him.

"Well, good to see you're awake, Dr. Reid," she said cheerily. For some reason, her bright demeanor only made Reid dislike the young girl. "Another hour and things would've looked bad." She glanced up at him, her brown eyes revealing a bit more sympathy than her cheery attitude did.

"You took quite a fall. Three bruised ribs, one cracked and a concussion. Luckily, it's only a mild concussion."

Reid absently rubbed the side of his head, "Considering what happened, I'd say I'm lucky to be alive," he rasped, his throat dry and rough.

She met his eyes again, something a bit more sad in them, and nodded, "True. The entire hospitals overcrowded now. We're probably going to have to start doubling up… ICU's packed…" she pressed her lips together, "Were you really in the room with the Joker when it happened?" she asked. "Did he escape?" So far, the news hadn't reported anything or given out any names and everyone in the hospital was on edge.

Gotham General had been destroyed months ago in one of the Joker's bombings; they had to move locations across town because of it. Thankfully, there was an old hospital that had been unused. It had taken about three and a half months to do minor renovations and clean up, but the old Gotham General was in the process of being rebuilt. Everyone on staff was on edge, terrified of what would happen in the Joker was on the loose again.

Reid saw the fear in the girl's eyes and felt guilty for what he'd thought earlier. "I… I don't know," he said, "I was knocked out by the blast."

The nurse bit her lips, her eyes anxious now, no longer attempting to hide behind her mask of cheerfulness. "Right…" she sounded disappointed, "Well, I'll let your doctor know you're awake, Dr. Reid."

She placed his chart at the end of the bed and started to leave, when Reid stopped her. "Wait, um… Have you heard anything about a Derek Morgan? Did he come in with me?"

The nurse blinked, the name not sounding familiar to her. But they were, as she'd said, crowded at the moment. "I'll check for you," she assured him. Reid nodded gratefully and leaned back against the hospital bed, sighing heavily. His body was tired and sore and begging for rest, but his mind had other ideas. He kept going over what he remembered from before, trying to figure out what had happened exactly and what would happen if the Joker had escaped. Which, at this point, seemed highly likely.

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><p>Alfred entered the living room carrying a tray of food, Bruce's dinner, when he spotted the young man grabbing his coat and slipping it on. He started to ask where he was going – though he already knew the answer to that – when he saw the television was still on and six faces were displayed on the screen. The six missing inmates. He felt his chest seize a bit with worry when he saw the Joker's grinning face among those photographs.<p>

He glanced out the window and back to Bruce, "Isn't it a bit early for Batman to be going out, Master Wayne?"

Bruce glanced back at him, straightening his coat and following the older man's gaze to the window. "The sun will set soon enough," he said, shrugging.

Alfred wanted to tell him not to go, to stay in and let the police deal with it. Commissioner Gordon was an able enough man, he knew the Joker, he could handle this. But he wouldn't. Because Bruce would never just sit by when Batman was needed and because Batman had become so much a part of him that to ask him to deny it would be like asking him to deny himself.

Bruce saw the look, the worry and fear that Alfred didn't voice and didn't have to. He sighed, "I can't just let him wander the streets, Alfred. Not him," he said, feeling he owed him some explanation. "He's already caused enough damage and Batman is the only person who can stop him…"

Alfred nodded solemnly, watching as the younger man left. "Be careful, Sir…" he whispered, loud enough for Bruce to just barely hear and quiet enough that he hoped he didn't catch the sadness of it. Despite Bruce's confidence in Batman, Alfred knew that the Joker had pushed him to his very limit before. Had nearly shattered him. He wasn't so sure Bruce was ready for another battle with the clown, but there was no stopping him.

The butler sat the tray of neglected food down, staring at it for a moment. It wasn't the first meal Bruce hadn't eaten and it wouldn't be the last. He turned worried eyes back to the television screen and stared at the hauntingly dark eyes of the Joker. If anyone could catch him, it would be Bruce Wayne. But what kind of condition would he be in when that happened?

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><p>The streets were flooded with cops. Every available officer was on duty, looking for the escaped inmates. Hardly anyone else was outside, most residents taking refuge in their homes, just hoping that they would apprehend the prisoners soon. A few brave, or perhaps stupid, Gothamites were outside. Mostly young men, either too drunk to care or too young to really fear death just yet. The smarter citizens were leaving the city as fast as they could. Still, scared as they were, most Gotham citizens were as stubborn as Gordon was and refused to give their city up to the same madman that had nearly destroyed it once before.<p>

Gordon was out on the streets with his men. In all honesty, he should have been in his office fielding phone calls, talking to Mayor Garcia, giving a statement to the press. But that wasn't who he was. He was a hands on type of man and he wasn't about to sit on his ass while his men searched the city for the monster of his nightmares.

The sky was darkening, not quite sunset yet, but the day was overcast already and it would probably rain tonight. Just what they needed. He cursed inwardly and shouted orders into his walkie-talkie. They'd set up a grid-search of the city, but it was slow going and things were looking bleak. They'd gotten calls from everywhere reporting sightings of the inmates – though, oddly, no one had reported seeing the Joker just yet. Gordon couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

As he was about to round a corner and catch up with his men, Gordon's path was suddenly blocked as two men dropped in front of him, hands bound, eyes wide. Gordon blinked, recognizing them as two of the inmates who'd escaped. Drawing his weapon, he looked around wildly and spotted a dark figure above him on the roof. The figure nodded curtly and he nodded back, yanking his radio from his belt to call a squad car.

His hopes raised a bit as he watched Batman's shadowy figure disappear from the roof. He'd been worried the Caped Crusader wouldn't show up, not after what had happened last time. They needed him though, whether Gotham wanted to admit it or not, they needed the Batman.

He could hear his cell phone ringing and sighed, not wanting to answer it, but once he saw it was the Mayor, he relented. "Gordon," he answered briskly.

_"Commissioner," _Garcia greeted him, _"Any sign of the Joker?"_

"None yet, we're looking," Gordon said. He couldn't help but want to add that they'd be able to look a whole lot faster if they didn't keep getting interrupted for things like this.

_"…What about the Batman?"_

Gordon's throat tightened a bit and he looked back at the roof where the vigilante had just been. "No. No sign of him."

He wasn't sure if Garcia's sigh was one of relief or disappointment. It was difficult to determine over the phone and the Mayor's stance on the Dark Knight was one often thrown into question. He supported him, at least behind closed doors, when Batman was the city's hero. But now that he was Public Enemy No. 1… He was more against him than ever, it seemed. Although, with the Joker on the loose, hunting down the Batman would at least take the backburner for a while.

_"We can't afford another disaster like what happened five months ago. We need to catch him and lock him up before this gets out of hand."_

"We're doing our best," Gordon couldn't help but snap at the man, "I've got all my men on duty tonight trying to hunt this bastard down."

There was a pause, and Garcia seemed to think for a moment, _"Try harder. Find him. Because if you don't, this will be on all of our heads. Do whatever it takes, but find this psycho, quickly."_

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><p>Hotch was just about ready to leave the office when his cell phone began buzzing and he snatched it up, frowning when he realized he didn't recognize the number. "Hotchner,"<p>

_"Aaron Hotchner?" _a female voice at the other end of the line spoke and Hotch frowned.

"Yes,"

_"Dr. Spencer Reid asked that we call you… Have you been watching the news?"_

Hotch's brows scrunched together. The news? What the hell did the news have to do with anything? Reid and Morgan were in Gotham City doing a custodial… "No," he replied briskly.

The woman hesitated, _"There was an attack," _she said, _"At Arkham today. It was bombed…"_

The Unit Chief's knuckles were white over the cell phone now, "Bombed…" he echoed, surprised by how faint his own voice sounded.

_"Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid are fine; they're both in the hospital, but they're awake. Dr. Reid told me to call you. He said to tell you to contact the Commissioner, Jim Gordon. Talk to him."_

Hotch wasn't sure what to say at this point, but he felt a bit numb anyway, trying not to think about Reid and Morgan being trapped inside Arkham as the bombs went off. "How are they?" he demanded.

_"Nothing serious," _the woman said, _"I'm really not supposed to give that information over the phone…"_

Hotch growled and she quickly continued, _"But since Dr. Reid asked me to… They've got a few bruised and cracked ribs, concussions and Agent Morgan fractured his left arm. He also has a more severe concussion, but there's nothing life threatening."_

Hotch relaxed a little after hearing that. "Thanks," he said, hanging up. He stood immediately and left his office, hoping Garcia was still there. He could see Rossi in his office and Prentiss at her desk. JJ had gone home already. He tapped on the technical analyst's door and she looked up, smiling at him.

"Hello, our dear, fearless leader," she greeted him cheerfully, "What can I do for you tonight?"

Hotch hesitated, not wanting to tell her what happened, but not wanting to keep it from her. He decided to call the commissioner first and get the details of what had happened. Then he could tell the team about the attack.

"I need a number," he said, "Jim Gordon, police commissioner in Gotham."

"Isn't that where Reid and Morgan are?" Garcia asked, typing away on her keyboard.

Hotch nodded absently, "They're doing a custodial with an Arkham inmate; the Joker."

Garcia shivered, "I saw that file," she said, "_Creep_-y. That is one twisted SOB." She then grinned, "Bingo! I've got his office, his cell and his home number."

Hotch smiled and shook his head, taking down the numbers. "Thanks, Garcia,"

"Anytime, boss man," she said perkily, turning back to her work as he left. Hotch glanced down at the number and headed briskly back to his office to call Gordon. One way or another, he was going to find out what the hell had happened to his agents. And then he was going to find the man responsible and make him wish he'd never been born.

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><p><strong>AN: **So, another chapter down. Sorry it took me a little bit. I've been super busy with school and work and hardly had time to write lately. Not to mention I've got midterms this week Yay -_-

Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I'm not too sure about it, but I'll let you guys be the judge.

And again, thanks so much for your previous reviews! You guys are awesome!

More Joker to come next chapter! ;) I know there wasn't nearly enough of him this chapter, buuuuuut, don't worry. He shall return. To kill us all. XP

Don't forget to review!


	3. Elementary, My Dear Henchmen

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **Thanks so much to all of the lovely reviewers! You guys are fantastic! Sorry for the wait. Been busy with midterms and all last week was insane. Plus, I was somewhat distracted by Torchwood and Dr. Owen Harper (*sobs*) so there's that ;)

But I'm back now. So, thanks again for the wonderful reviews and to everyone who's added this to favorites and alerts! You rock!

And now, back to the wonderful world of Batman and Criminal Minds XD

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Elementary, My Dear Henchmen<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_"Bingo! I've got his office, his cell and his home number."_

_Hotch smiled and shook his head, taking down the numbers. "Thanks, Garcia,"_

_"Anytime, boss man," she said perkily, turning back to her work as he left. Hotch glanced down at the number and headed briskly back to his office to call Gordon. One way or another, he was going to find out what the hell had happened to his agents. And then he was going to find the man responsible and make him wish he'd never been born._

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><p>Gordon hung up the phone and sighed, shaking his head as he made his way down the halls of Gotham General. It was just after midnight now and yet the city still seemed as awake as ever, just a different kind of awake. This time of night, most sane citizens were safely indoors, while the more questionable, criminal element went out prowling the streets, just hoping that they didn't run into Gotham's infamous Dark Knight.<p>

He'd just gotten off the phone with Dr. Reid and Agent Morgan's supervisor, Aaron Hotchner. The other man had been on the verge of jumping on a plane that night to be in Gotham as quickly as he could, but Gordon had managed to talk him out of that, at least. Hotchner had offered the assistance of his entire team of agents, but Gordon turned him down. They didn't need more FBI agents running around in his city. He could handle this himself. Well, mostly himself.

He sighed heavily as he thought about his wife and children, probably still awake at home, wondering when he was going to get back. He'd called to let them know what was happening, but that had been hours ago. It was the one thing about his job that he hated.

He came to a stop outside of one of the patient's rooms and glanced toward a young nurse, "Excuse me," he walked over to her, "Is this Agent Morgan's room?"

She glanced up and consulted a chart in her hands for a moment before nodding, "Yes, Agent Derek Morgan, and a Dr. Newman. We've had to double up, unfortunately. We're over crowded after what happened today at Arkham."

He nodded, "Is he awake?"

"Um… He did wake up a couple of hours ago, sir, but it's after visiting hours and I think it's best if he-"

"I just need to ask him a few questions. I'll be quick," Gordon assured her, showing the young woman his badge. She bit her lip, looking unsure, but nodded slowly.

"Alright. Five minutes is all I can give you, and if he's gone back to sleep, he needs to rest."

Gordon nodded and quietly entered the room, feeling the nurse's anxious eyes hovering on him the entire time. He'd hoped to be able to speak to Dr. Reid as well, but he doubted he'd convince her to let him talk to both of them. Luckily, Morgan was awake when he gently closed the door behind him, though the other man in the bed next to him was not.

There was a bandage on the agent's temple, his arm was in a cast and sling and his dark eyes were slightly foggy. He slowly approached the bed, glancing over the doctor, who appeared to be in far worse shape than Agent Morgan did. As he stood beside the bed, Morgan's eyes slowly roved around to face him and he squinted.

"Commissioner," his voice was slightly strained as he forced himself to sit up a bit, "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Gordon eyed the man somberly for a moment, surprised at how alert Morgan seemed to be despite being pumped full of pain medication and laid up in a hospital bed. "You're a little worse for the wear," he noted.

Morgan smiled ruefully, shrugging and grimacing. "I'll be fine. I'll be out of here by tomorrow. They just wanted to monitor me overnight because of the concussion."

Gordon nodded, pursing his lips. "The Joker escaped,"

"I heard," Morgan sighed, "And before you ask, he didn't exactly give anything away." The FBI agent frowned, "He's been planning this for a while. He asked us what time it was when we were in there and knew when the bombs would go off; he's got to have someone on the inside."

Gordon had been afraid of that. That was the last thing they needed. More mistrust. "I'm already looking into all Arkham employee backgrounds. Most are coming up clean, after what happened with Crane they're more careful about who works there."

"Not careful enough," Morgan said, frowning thoughtfully. "Have you talked to Reid?"

"No," Gordon shook his head, "It's already past visiting hours, they probably won't let me. I did just talk to your boss, though. He's worried."

Morgan smirked, "Of course he is…" he hesitated for a moment, "We could help, you, Commissioner. Find the Joker, I mean. He's out there somewhere and the BAU could help you predict what his next move'll be."

"Thanks, but I think the Gotham police can handle this. He can't get too far; we've got the city blanketed."

Morgan frowned, "You call in your vigilante then?"

Gordon fought to keep his face neutral, but it was obvious from the agent's tone that he didn't approve of the Batman or his methods. "The Batman is a wanted felon," he stated simply. "Nothing more than that."

Morgan narrowed his glossy eyes and shook his head, "He's a criminal when you don't need him," he said, "But with the Joker on the loose, who's to stop you from using whatever resources you can?"

"Are you accusing me of something, Agent?"

"No, warning you. He might catch criminals for you, Gordon, but he's still a criminal himself. Not only that, a murderer. No one's above the law, not even your Batman."

Gordon's mustache bristled slightly and he met Derek's dark eyes, nodding stiffly, "And the Gotham police are working to find out his identity. Right now, the Joker is our priority and as I recall, we didn't ask for your help on either case."

Morgan tore his gaze away after a moment, "If you want our help finding the Joker, just ask. And talk to Reid. The Joker seemed to take an interest in him. I think he said something to him before he left…" he frowned, brows knitting together, "I can't remember what though."

Gordon nodded, "I'll do that. Good night, Agent."

"'Night, Commissioner,"

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><p>Reid wasn't exactly sure what time it was that he'd fallen asleep. Nurses periodically came into the room to check up on him and his new roommate – the young Dr. Harleen Quinzel he'd met earlier at the Asylum – but they never said what time it was and there wasn't a clock in the room.<p>

Harley had been unconscious, or in a drugged sleep, since they'd brought her in. She was a bit bruised and cut up, but still her wounds appeared relatively superficial, though he was certain she must've hit her head and the doctors were taking extra care with her right ankle, so he assumed it was sprained or broken. Because she was asleep and the nurses more often than not seemed intent on carrying on one-sided conversations about the Joker's escape and his own medical condition, Reid had quickly gotten bored.

He'd asked his doctor to call Hotch and tell him what had happened and ask him to call Gordon. He wasn't sure if he had or not, but he knew that Hotch would be worried and besides that, with the Joker out there, Gotham needed all the help they could get. He just hoped the Commissioner was willing to accept help from the BAU.

Eventually, he must've nodded off. Some combination of exhaustion and the drugs currently in his system. He was actually surprised to find out how very little he cared that the doctors had given him painkillers. The drugs were the least of his worries at the moment as he looked around the room with bleary eyes, wondering what time it was and how long it had been since he'd fallen asleep.

"You're awake!"

The sound of Harley's voice caused the young agent to turn his head sharply in the direction of her bed and he winced as piercing pain erupted from his chest. The doctor had said he'd be sore, but well enough to leave by the next day. He just hoped he'd be able to move by then…

"I thought you'd never wake up; it's been hours," the young woman was sitting up in her bed, an old magazine plopped across her knees, her right leg elevated slightly on a pillow and wrapped tightly with bandages and what Reid thought might be an icepack.

He rubbed his temple, nodded, "Dr. Quinzel, right?"

She smiled, and despite the rather nasty bruise forming on her temple, or her busted and swollen lip, she was still quite beautiful. "I told you that you can call me Harley, Dr. Reid."

He held off a grimace and nodded, "Then you can call me Spencer," he said. "How long was I unconscious?"

"I'm not sure, at least two hours. You were out when I woke up anyway," she flipped the magazine closed and shifted her weight on the bed, wincing and screwing her eyes up briefly. "Have you heard what happened yet?"

There was an anxious light in her wide blue eyes as she stared right at him and he shrugged, not sure whether she was referring to the Joker's escape, or something that had happened since he'd been unconscious.

"About the Joker?" she elaborated. "He escaped…"

Reid nodded, "Along with five others, yes," he said, "It was on the TV earlier." He glanced up at the now dark television that was hanging from the ceiling and frowned to himself. Six escaped Arkham inmates was the last thing that Gotham City needed. Especially when one of those inmates was the Joker.

"It's just terrible," she said, her blue eyes darting toward the hospital room door. "…When the first bomb went off I thought 'This is it. I'm about to die' and Dr. McGuire grabbed me and pushed me under the table..."

She trailed off for a moment and her eyes shot back to Reid's. "He nearly lost his arm because of that…"

Reid swallowed roughly. He silently berated himself for not thinking about that sooner. People must've died in that explosion. How many lives had the Joker already taken and he hadn't even thought to consider that? He'd been too worried about himself to think about the families who'd lost someone in that blast.

Harley was still talking and Reid tried to stay focused on her words, "Of course, we should've seen this coming sooner or later," she said.

Reid frowned, "What?" he asked.

"The Joker escaping," Harley said, turning again so that she was facing him properly. "A cell can't hold a man like that for long. He's brilliant, really. I've only had a few sessions with him, only a couple alone, but you must've noticed it yourself, Spencer. He's a genius." Her eyes were starry for a moment and then she shook her head, seeming to snap back to reality.

"And he's devious and inventive. Of course he'd find a way to escape. It's not that shocking when you think about it, is it?"

Reid slowly nodded in agreement. No, of course it wasn't surprising. He'd only spoken to the man twice, but the fact that he'd engineered an escape wasn't surprising in the least. What was surprising, in all honesty, was that they hadn't been prepared for it, that no one had thought he'd attempt anything at all. It had been nearly six months since the Joker's placement in Arkham, without a single escape attempt, so it was only logical that it'd happen eventually.

"You've had private sessions with him?" Reid asked suddenly, cutting the rest of Harley's speech off.

She stopped for a second, nodding. "Just a couple, really," she said, "I only just graduated, but Dr. Cole used to be the Joker's regular psychiatrist until she just refused to speak to him again, then Dr. McGuire took over and I'm interning under him. He's been talking about dropping more patients and trying to get the new director, Dr. Llewellyn, to take over the Joker from him, when I said I'd like to do it…"

She paused again, blushing faintly, "So for the last few months, Dr. McGuire's been training me, sort of, to take over for him…"

Reid nodded slowly. He remembered Gordon telling them that the Joker had been through several doctors already. He wondered briefly what it was that drove the doctors away, but realized it really didn't have to be much of anything. Just the way he looked at people creeped them out. Yet Harley clearly found him fascinating.

"Maybe we could compare notes," Reid suggested, "Try to figure out where the Joker is and what he's planning."

Harleys' eyes shone and she nodded, "We could do that," she smiled, "I'd love to help, any way I can, just name it."

Reid almost smiled at her eagerness. She was younger than he was, and far less experienced in dealing with people like the Joker, but she seemed bright enough and certainly willing enough. He couldn't help but wonder what exactly it was about the Joker that had her so captivated, but decided that he'd leave that for another time. At the moment, he was tired, sore and his head was killing him. He had enough to worry about without thinking about other things.

He gingerly laid his head back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, listening as Harley quietly talked to him about the patients, mostly the Joker, and he occasionally supplied his own comments. He felt oddly at ease around the young woman and allowed her to do pretty much all the talking, listening as she spun tales of her college days and her first day at Arkham. It was restful, somehow, and he was able to let his mind wonder to more important things as he listened to her babble on.

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><p>Bruce grunted as he pulled a fresh shirt on over his bruised body. It had been a long night, just as Alfred had predicted. And it had started to rain, which hadn't been helpful in the least. He'd managed to catch two of the inmates, young, scrawny men, early on in the night, but the other four remained a bit more elusive.<p>

The third inmate he'd caught was a huge man by anyone's standards, including his own, and the fight that had followed, in the rain, through narrow alleys and into an old storage shed, left him with a few new bruises and an intense dislike of baseball bats. Of course, he managed to subdue the man eventually and delivered him to Gotham PD, but then he'd had to run again because there was no telling who might spot him there and not all the cops were quite as forgiving as they might have been before.

It seemed as if most of them blamed him for Harvey Dent's death… Sometimes, he blamed himself for Harvey's death too. Other times, he blamed the Joker, but lately it was getting harder and harder to pin the blame on the clown when, looking back, there were so many things he could've done differently to stop the end from coming the way that it did.

There had been no sign of the Joker all night, which was a little disconcerting to say the least. Bruce had expected the Batman's presence to draw the madman out, as it had before. The Joker had clearly enjoyed his attention, but he was obviously busy elsewhere. And if the Joker was busy doing something, things were only just starting to get bad.

"Rough night, Master Wayne?"

Bruce's smile was a bit dark as he turned to face Alfred as the older man entered. "Not so bad," he said, shrugging and pretending that the movement didn't make him want to scream. That big bastard had really hit him hard with that bat last night. The armor had kept him from getting any broken ribs, but it certainly hadn't stopped him from bruising a couple.

Alfred's eyes twinkled a bit as he studied the younger man. He was lying, obviously, but still mostly intact and not bleeding this time, so he let it go with a nod and a worried glance at the back of his head as Bruce turned away from him.

"No sign of the Joker, then?"

Bruce sighed, slumping back down in his seat and turning keen eyes to the monitors in front of him. "None," he pressed his lips together, "But I'll find him, Alfred. And he'll be back in Arkham before anyone else dies."

Alfred admired Bruce's determination, but couldn't help but think he was being just a bit overly-optimistic in this circumstance. He changed the subject after a beat of silence, "Well, Mr. Rein called again last night, about the construction…"

Bruce sighed and ran his hand over his face tiredly. "Again?" he asked.

Alfred smiled, nodding. Rein was overseeing the reconstruction of Wayne Manor, had been, in fact, for the past seven or eight months. And every step of the way, there seem to be some issue which he needed Bruce's opinion on, calling and day and night. It was to the point Bruce was nearly ready to tell him Wayne Manor didn't need to be rebuilt. They were already behind schedule anyway, but it was so close to completion by now that all they were doing was the final things like flooring, lighting fixtures, bathroom tiles…

As soon as they were done, Bruce knew Alfred would call that interior decorator woman and he'd spend upwards of a hundred thousand dollars just furnishing his bedroom, but it would be worth it to be back in the Manor and not the penthouse. While the penthouse was more beneficial to his billionaire playboy persona, he much preferred not having to drive to get to what Alfred had taken to calling his 'Bat Cave'.

"There seems to be a problem with the cabinets in the kitchen," Alfred told him.

Bruce sighed and shook his head, "I'll call him later," he said, standing again, glancing down at his watch. "I'm supposed to be in a meeting with Lucius and the board in an hour…"

Alfred nodded genially, "Then you'd better get going, Sir. I'll tend to Mr. Rein for the moment… perhaps you could defer this to Mrs. Donnellson?"

Bruce smiled as he pulled his coat on and nodded, "Perfect, Alfred. Let her deal with him for a change,"

Alfred chuckled slightly, watching the young man leave and quietly following him out, trying not to pay too much attention to how stiffly the younger man was moving. Whatever had happened last night, it had certainly left him sporting a few new bruises. And he hadn't even met the Joker yet…

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><p>The Joker was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself while his men watched anxiously. If they'd thought he was scary in his white Arkham uniform and unpainted face, they were terrified now that he'd donned a purple suit with matching purple gloves and had somehow managed to both paint his face with that horrible, messy greasepaint smile and give his dirty blond hair a fresh coat of shimmering green dye.<p>

He looked almost ethereal, swearing under his breath, twirling a knife between his gloved fingers, pacing inside what was an old fishing cargo warehouse by the docks. It had been empty for years and the Joker and his men, when he had men, called this place home more often than not.

None of them knew what the clown was planning, or whether or not he even had an actual plan at all. Some of them thought he just made it up as he went along, others figured he must be some kind of evil genius because his plans usually worked out exactly the way he said they would.

He'd been at it for hours, muttering swears and pacing. He'd hardly spoken to anyone except to insult them or threaten them. The seven men seated at the table quickly learned to keep their mouths shut.

They'd only just finished eating their breakfast when the Joker's mutterings suddenly ceased and the next thing they knew, he was standing right next to them at the dingy poker table they'd eaten off of.

His smile was all the more sinister with the red paint stretching across his scars.

"It's time to _move_, _**'gents**_," he said, chuckling to himself. "We've got a lot of _work _to do before we bring Gotham to its _knees_…"

The men were quickly on their feet, leaving the dirty dishes on the table and grabbing their guns and masks and following him out to the beat up white van that had been their getaway vehicle the day before. The Joker stood, pursing his lips and shaking his head at it before he jumped into the passenger seat and the men quickly followed suit.

"Where are we going, boss?" the driver, the small man from the day before whose name was Daniel, though the Joker refused to call him that and instead referred to him as Gladstone for some reason none of them were sure of.

The Joker was smiling a wide, brilliant, terrible smile as he fondly ran his fingers over the silvery blade of the knife in his hands. "Where _to?_" he repeated, his dark eyes sparkling. "Where _to?_ … How about the school."

"School?" a tall, beefy man leaned forward, not yet wearing his clown mask.

The Joker turned to eye him distastefully, "_Yes_," he hissed, "The _**school.**_ Gotham Elementary. Now drive, Gladstone, drive!"

The small masked man nodded, quickly following the Joker's orders. He didn't know what the Joker wanted to do at an elementary school, but then again, the Joker only ever seemed to make sense to the Joker, so he supposed that wasn't so surprising as he pushed the accelerator down as far as it would go and drove.

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><p>"So that's it then?" Prentiss frowned, standing across from Hotch. Garcia, JJ and Rossi were gathered around her, looking at their boss in shock. "We aren't going to do anything about it?"<p>

"There's nothing we can do without a formal invitation, Prentiss," Hotch sighed. He'd called the team in early this morning to let them know what had happened in Gotham and that Reid and Morgan were in good condition – supposed to be released later that day.

"But Reid and Morgan are already there," JJ said, "They're supposed to be doing the custodial, technically –"

Hotch shook his head, cutting her off, "Commissioner Gordon doesn't want our help in this," he said, "I tried to reason with him, but this isn't a federal case."

"We could claim the Joker's a terrorist," Rossi mused, "That would give us some jurisdictional pull."

Hotch shook his head, "I don't want to create tension where it's not needed. Gordon believes Gotham police can handle it and if he changes his mind, he knows how to reach us."

"They are okay, right?" Garcia asked. She was looking particularly pale despite her colorful dress and the large turquoise flower in her hair. Her eyes were wide and she was wringing her hands anxiously. "I mean, a bomb…"

"Reid and Morgan are fine. Morgan might be out of the field for a while with his arm broken, but I spoke to Reid this morning and they're being released this afternoon," Hotch assured her.

He could see how unhappy the others were about not being able to help on the Joker case. They'd all seen the case file, watched the news coverage and posited their own theories about who the man was and why he was doing what he was doing, but with no official invite, they'd let Gotham handle it.

Prentiss still remained stubborn, "Hotch, look what happened when he first started up! The only reason they caught him was because of that vigilante, Batman."

Hotch sighed. Of course they'd all heard the rumors that Gotham PD was actually worth _with _the Batman, but no one really seemed bothered by that fact until it became apparent that he wasn't quite as innocent as they'd thought he was when five people were killed - not counting Harvey Dent, whose death still remained a bit murky in the best of lights. Some people seemed to believe that Batman had killed him as well, but even Commissioner Gordon, who'd been there on the scene that night, couldn't say for sure what had transpired.

He stood from his desk, shaking his head, "Unless Gordon changes his mind, we'll just wait for Morgan and Reid to return. Now, you've all got plenty of paperwork to keep your busy. Garcia,"

"Sir?" the technical analyst blinked, standing a bit straighter. She was still wringing her hands and probably wouldn't stop being worried until she actually got to speak to Reid and Morgan and see them herself.

"Keep an eye on what's happening in Gotham," he ordered. "_If _the Commissioner changes his mind, I want to be up-to-date."

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><p>Reid couldn't help but be extremely relieved when he finally saw Morgan again. The older agent grinned and gave Reid a one-armed hug, being careful with his left arm, which hung in a sling, pulled tightly to his side.<p>

They'd been released from the hospital with warnings about taking it easy and keeping painkillers on them because they'd be sore for a while to come. Morgan was just glad to finally be out of that hospital bed.

"Have a nice night, Pretty Boy?"

Reid made a face, "I hardly slept at all," he said, "I spent most of the night talking to Harley, actually."

"Harley?" Morgan raised a brow as they made their way to the parking lot where the Gotham police had left their bureau sanctioned SUV that morning.

Reid's face was tinged somewhat pink, "Dr. Quinzel, from yesterday?"

"Oooh," Morgan's grin widened as he went to the driver's seat and then stopped, making a face as Reid stepped in front of him and looked pointedly at his broken arm. The older man muttered under his breath and moved around to the passenger side.

"The pretty blond doctor," he mused, teasingly ruffling Reid's hair, "She liked you, Reid."

Reid frowned and fixed his hair, shooting his partner an annoyed glare. "She was just being friendly," he said defensively.

"Sure, Reid, sure," Morgan shifted, trying to get comfortable despite his aching ribs and sore… everything else.

"So what did she have to say then?" he asked, leaning forward and fiddling with the radio, "Anything about who might be the Joker's man inside?"

"No," Reid shook his head, "But she did have a few sessions with him and she said she'd be willing to go over her notes with us… She, uh, she's being released in a few hours and said she would call and we could meet up later tonight and talk about it."

Morgan raised a brow, "So you two are going to go out for dinner then?"

"No!" Reid's face was now a furious red color and he shook his head. "We're discussing the case, Morgan. Nothing else."

Morgan smiled, shaking his head and looking out the window, "Gordon doesn't want our help," he said suddenly.

"I know, I talked to Hotch a few hours ago. It does make sense, Morgan," Reid pointed out, glancing over at him, "I mean, the Joker is their problem as far as he's concerned and they let him escape. He doesn't want to look weak for asking outsiders to help."

Morgan frowned, "Maybe, but the Joker is more than just Gotham's problem. What happens if he decides to leave the city? What if he goes somewhere else? There are innocent lives at stake here, Reid."

Reid shook his head, "The Joker isn't leaving Gotham any time soon," he said confidently.

"You sound sure,"

"I am. This city is one of the most crime riddled cities in the country," he said, "Not to mention, they have something in Gotham that the Joker can't find anywhere else."

Morgan frowned, "And that would be?"

"The Batman,"

Morgan made a face, "Right, 'the Batman'," he snorted, "For all we know, they're working together."

Reid gave him and incredulous look before turning his eyes back to the traffic. "Come on, Morgan, even you don't believe that."

"Okay, maybe that's a little out-there," Morgan admitted, "But the Batman is still a criminal. No one is above the law,"

Reid frowned thoughtfully, "I think he's doing good here, Morgan. I mean, despite the Joker and everything. Batman's cleaned up this city a lot. There aren't nearly as many criminals as there used to be out here. Organized crime has taken a huge hit; they're crippled because of him."

"They're crippled because of people like Gordon and Harvey Dent," Morgan said, "Batman's a murderer, Reid,"

Reid pursed his lips, "I'm not sure I believe that," he said slowly, "It doesn't make sense for him to kill any of those people. He's never killed anyone before and he's had plenty of opportunity to do so. He didn't even kill the Joker and he could have."

Morgan shook his head, "He's a vigilante, Reid, you know how most of them profile. They put themselves above the law and take out the criminals by killing them."

"But the Batman hands them over, Morgan," Reid counted, "He hasn't ever handed Gotham police a corpse. So why kill those seemingly innocent – or not so innocent if you count Maroni – people? It doesn't make sense or fit his profile."

Morgan remained adamant, shaking his head. "Even if he's not a murderer - and all the facts say he is – he's still a criminal. No police department should allow a man like that run their city without any consequences. It's not right."

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><p>They sat outside of the school for several hours, the Joker watching the children and their parents and teachers and staff come and go and bustle around doing their jobs. None of his men were sure what he was waiting for, but at one thirty they heard a bell ringing and students and teachers flooded around, entering into the main building and the Joker grinned, sitting up, his back cracking several times from sitting in that stiff position for so long.<p>

"Get _ready, _boys," he said, reaching into the back and snatching a rifle into his gloved hand. "The _fun_ is about to start!" He laughed, a high pitched, giddy laugh that sent shivers down the men's spines. They never wanted to be on the wrong end of a laugh like that. The only thing scarier than the Joker laughing, was the Joker angry.

They sat in silence for a minute or two more until the bustle died down and the Joker threw his door open, jerkily motioning for the men to follow him as they crossed the street. There were two men in police uniforms standing guard by the school's gates.

The Joker laughed loudly, and the men turned around, eyes going wide, faces draining of blood as they opened their mouths to scream and reached for their radios at their hips.

They never got the chance when the Joker lifted his rifle and fired two concentrated blasts right at them, leaving them both dead, riddled with bullet holes, on the ground. The clown's eyes sang of madness as he skipped through the gates and the men followed him right into the school where he shot the old receptionist who tried to grab the phone and call 911.

The small army marched down the hall and came to a halt outside of two large double doors marked 'Auditorium'.

"What are we doing, Boss?" the beefy man, whose nickname, for obvious reasons, was Bulldog, asked.

The Joker grinned and turned to him with that wide, insane grin, his eyes dancing with excitement. "Today, gentle_men_, this school is having the 'Say No to Drugs' talk. All the little kiddies and their teachers all gathered inside to discuss the _dangers_ of strangers with _**candy**__!_ And I think… I think they need a more… _in-ter-est-ing _lesson!"

He clapped his hands together, spun the rifle in his hands and viciously kicked the door in, grinning like the Cheshire cat as he stepped inside and pointed the gun toward the ceiling, letting a hail of bullets loose with a deranged giggle.

As screams filled the room, the Joker bellowed over the uproar, laughing as he sauntered further inside.

"Hell-oh, _kiddies!_" he greeted them, holding the gun threateningly in his hands. "Have we all been _good _boys and girls?"

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><p><strong>AN: **So… Yeah… There's chapter three. Not really sure what to say about it, honestly. Slightly nervous… And really not sure about the title. It's kind of 'Punny' … I think I've been reading too much Sherlock Holmes.

Hope you guys enjoyed it! Please review!


	4. The Spark that Started the Fire

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **Thanks so much to all of the lovely readers and reviewers! You guys make my day. I can't even begin to tell you how ridiculously fun it is to write this story. I only wish I had more free time to write, school just keeps getting in my way. It's *so* annoying.

I know this is far later than usual; this past week has been even crazier than last week was. I was going to write all day Wednesday but I got caught up after work because a friend was in the hospital so I didn't get home until after midnight and no time to finish working on the chapter until after I did my homework. Then I was away for the weekend and had no time to write and just… *sigh*

Not to mention I didn't start writing until Tuesday because I was extremely distracted by "Sherlock" Anyway… I'm babbling now.

And now, back to the story!

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: The Spark the Started the Fire<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_As screams filled the room, the Joker bellowed over the uproar, laughing as he sauntered further inside._

_"Hell-oh, __**kiddies**__!" he greeted them, holding the gun threateningly in his hands. "Have we all been __**good**__ boys and girls?"_

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><p>Gordon practically ran into the Mayor's office, breathing heavily, sweat beading on his forehead. Garcia was just standing from his desk, hanging his phone up as he pulled on his coat. He barely cast a glance at the shaken police commissioner.<p>

"Any word yet?" he demanded, waving for the man to follow him as he briefly checked his cell phone and slipped it into his coat pocket.

Gordon shook his head, his face tight and pale. "Nothing," he said, "Not since the initial call. It's been silent for over an hour now."

"That can't be good," the Mayor looked ragged, Gordon realized for the first time. A man who normally carried himself strongly, he was fidgeting a bit, his tie lopsided, his hands shaking, eyes wide with panic. Not that he could blame him. About an hour ago they'd received a phone call from the Joker telling them exactly where he was.

Normally, that'd be considered some sort of miracle if it weren't for the fact that he was heavily armed inside Gotham Elementary School.

"Have you got eyes inside yet?"

"There's no way," Gordon shook his head, "The Auditorium doesn't have windows, we'd have to go into the main building. We can't risk him setting off a bomb or shooting school children." The commissioner held the door open for Garcia as the two men rushed outside, sliding into a car quickly, ignoring the reporters who'd already gathered outside of City Hall, all clamoring for answers.

Garcia ran a hand over his face, dark eyes restlessly probing the buildings as they drove past. He just kept telling himself that there was always a way out. There had to be some solution to this seemingly impossibly problem. He just had to figure out what it was first.

"Any word from… him?"

Gordon didn't ask who 'he' was, he just shook his head. Garcia must be desperate if he was going to ask if Gordon had actually been in contact with Batman. Gordon only wished that he had, but the Batman was almost always nocturnal. He probably wouldn't show up in the middle of the afternoon. Somehow, Gordon had the feeling the Joker had been counting on that.

"We've got do something, damn it!" Garcia spat viciously, glaring out the window now. Gordon's fists clenched and he nodded curtly.

"We're doing everything we can," he assured him. "We've tried calling in, but he won't answer. He hasn't called back yet. He's got to want something, but until he contacts us again, we won't know for sure."

"And until then we just sit here, looking like helpless idiots," Garcia muttered bitterly.

Gordon scowled, "What do expect me to do!" he snapped, "My own children are in there! Do you think I want them in danger? But we can't do anything without risking their lives until we find out what the Joker wants."

Garcia swallowed roughly, shaking his head, turning his entire body away from the commissioner. Gordon sighed and shook his head, hating how helpless he really did feel at the moment. He could almost hear the screams of terrified kids as the Joker taunted them, waving guns at them from the safety of his innocent human shields. There had to be _something _they could do.

"Those FBI agents," Garcia suddenly broke Gordon out his desperate thoughts, "They're some kind of specialists, right?"

Gordon blinked, "Behavioral Analysts," he said, "They, uh, study people."

Garcia nodded, "Call them in, maybe they can negotiate with him,"

"Sir, with all respect, we can handle –"

"No, we can't," Garcia cut him off. "We need this to go away, and we need it to go away quickly, Gordon. Call them in."

"They just got out of the hospital; they were injured in the explosion yesterday –"

"Then call in the rest of their team!" Garcia snapped, "We don't have time to sit here arguing. You said it yourself, children are in danger. _Your children. _If these agents can talk the Joker down, let them try. It's doing something at least."

Gordon almost objected again, wanting to suggest that instead they wait it out until nightfall – if they could, anyway. Then perhaps the Batman would show up and fix this. But then he remembered that Batman was still a wanted felon in the eyes nearly every cop on the force, not to mention the MCU. Besides that, Garcia and the new DA were obviously not fans of the Caped Crusader. And he thought about his son and daughter and knew he wanted them out of there as soon as possible.

"I'll see what I can do," he relented, a bit annoyed that the Mayor lost confidence in the Gotham PD so quickly. Once again, he couldn't really blame him. If their last run in with the Joker had proven anything it was that sometimes, they couldn't even trust their own people to catch the bad guys. Maybe calling in the FBI was a good thing. But he certainly wasn't looking forward to it.

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><p>Bruce was keeping a close eye on the news. About an hour and a half ago the Joker had barged into Gotham Elementary's annual "Say No to Drugs" speech with seven men, all armed with assault rifles and God only knew what else. Gotham police were on the scene and he'd heard that the Commissioner had called in the Behavioral Analysis Unit to negotiate with the Joker.<p>

There was no negotiating with a man like the Joker though and it was obvious that they weren't getting anywhere. They _needed _him, they _needed _Batman. But they didn't want him.

And it was four o'clock in the afternoon, still far too light out for his usual appearances. Which left him on edge, watching the clock and the news with intensity. The second it appeared that things were going to go any farther than they already had, he would be there daylight or not. He was not about to let the Joker hurt innocent children.

He could feel Alfred's worried gaze on him whenever he entered the room but he didn't turn around, still watching the television screen with dark, brooding eyes. There was a beat of heavy silence before Bruce finally broke it.

"Children, Alfred. They're just kids. Why would anyone want to threaten children?"

Alfred sighed heavily, shaking his head at the television, "As I said before, Master Wayne, some men just want to watch the world burn. The Joker doesn't care who he's harming so long as it sends people into a panic,"

Bruce frowned, glaring at the TV. He'd tried and failed to really understand the Joker's motives before. He had to want _something _after all, all criminals do. But for whatever reason, the Joker never seemed to want anything other than to create mayhem. He truly enjoyed watching the fear and panic that he incited. Maybe it made him feel powerful, Bruce wasn't sure. What he did know was that no one would ever make sense of the man. Not these BAU agents they were sending in, not the doctors at Arkham, not Batman, no one. The Joker was a mystery that would never be unraveled.

But just because he didn't have an answer to the "_Why?"_ that constantly plagued him when he thought of the man, didn't mean he couldn't stop him anyway. Logical or not, the Joker was still a criminal and still just a man and he had to be stopped before things escalated like they had before.

"What could he possibly gain from any of this?" Bruce wondered aloud, shaking his head at the television. Alfred just eyed the younger man sympathetically. He wished he could give Bruce advice on how to handle this, but some small selfish part of the butler wanted to tell him to leave the Joker to the police. Then, of course, another part of him reminded him that Batman was a part of Bruce Wayne. Sometimes, especially lately, he'd begun to wonder where Batman ended and Bruce began. The two were so integrated together that to separate them would be impossible.

"The Batman will stop him, Master Wayne," he smiled faintly, his eyes twinkling for a moment, "I hear he's just as stubborn as you are."

Bruce chuckled lightly at that, smiling. But his eyes turned grim again as they fell on the television screen and the Mayor's worried face as he tried to calm down the panicked parents who were demanding to know what was being done to save their children.

_"-doing everything we can to negotiate with –"_

_"Negotiate! You can't possibly be considering giving in to this psycho's demands, Mayor?"_

_"No, of course we aren't, we're simply trying to get your children out of the school safely and with as little trouble as possible. We can't just go in there guns blazing and –"_

_"But the longer you sit here doing nothing, the longer those children are being exposed to a madman! You have to do something!"_

At that point Commissioner Gordon stepped up and took the microphone away from the mayor, beginning to address the crowd of angry parents and reporters. Bruce leaned forward in his seat, glancing at his watch. Still too early for Batman, but maybe not too early for Bruce Wayne to be seen outside of a press conference on a hostage situation…

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>Reid and Morgan stood just a few feet to the side of Commissioner Gordon and Mayor Garcia, listening as reporters bombarded the two men with questions and complaints and demands. Morgan was hardly paying attention to them, his jaw fixed as he glanced back at the school behind them. If there was one thing that he couldn't tolerate, it was someone terrorizing children in any way. It took a special kind of monster to do something like that.<p>

Reid was eyeing his partner anxiously, knowing him well enough to know what was going through his mind. Gordon had called the two of them down about half an hour ago, reluctantly asking for their assistance on the case. Reid could tell that he hadn't liked asking for help from the FBI and was surprised when he said that the rest of their team was on the next flight there. After Gordon had turned down their earlier offer of assistance, he hadn't thought he'd come around so quickly.

Then again, when over two hundred children were being held hostage, he couldn't blame the man for taking any help that he could get. He'd heard Morgan say something about Gordon only asking because it was too early for their vigilante to intervene. Some part of him had wanted to disagree; it wasn't as if the police relied solely on Batman. In fact, from what he'd seen, most of them didn't like him at all.

"He should've called again by now…" Morgan muttered to himself.

Reid frowned, glancing over at him, "What?"

"The Joker," Morgan said, "It's been nearly two and a half hours. He should have called again. What's he waiting for?"

Reid glanced behind him at the school, nodding slowly, "Could be nothing," he said quietly, "He doesn't seem to want anything other than to create chaos…" Then he bit his lip and glanced up at the sky. It was starting to get darker now; sunset was only a couple of hours away.

"He could be waiting for nightfall,"

Morgan knitted his brows, looking over at the younger agent, "What do you mean?"

"The Joker is obsessed with Batman," Reid said, "He could be waiting until it's night because… that's when Batman would show up."

Morgan made a face, shaking his head. "They'll never let him go in there,"

Reid shrugged, "I'm not saying they will, but from what we know about the Joker so far, it's the most likely reason he's being so quiet," He was silent for a minute before he glanced back over at Morgan curiously, "Would you really refuse to let Batman in if that _was _his demand?"

"Yes," Morgan muttered, "Batman's a criminal. We are professionals. There is no way that we can send a criminal in to deal with another criminal."

"Even if that 'criminal' was the only one who could stop this?"

Morgan scowled, "Even if," he nodded. "…Besides, he seemed to like you, maybe we should send you in."

He was smirking slightly and Reid knew that he was just kidding, but the thought had crossed his mind a few times already. For whatever reason, the Joker had seemed oddly drawn to him and if there was some way that he could use that to his advantage and get those kids out of there safely, he would. But first they needed to find out what the Joker was planning with all of this.

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><p>By the time they arrived at the school the crowd had grown to mammoth proportions, worried and angry parents, reporters looking for a story and anxious citizens just clamoring around, watching in horror, terrified of another bombing. Hotch and Rossi worked their way around the crowd, JJ and Prentiss moving around in the opposite direction. Commissioner Gordon stood with the Mayor and Reid and Morgan, just behind the school's entrance in a makeshift tent they'd set up.<p>

Hotch ducked under the tent flaps, glancing around at the small group. There were a few officers standing around, but most of them were standing closer to the main school building, or standing outside watching the crowd.

The Commissioner and the Mayor immediately approached them, shaking Hotch's hand, "Agent Hotchner, FBI," Hotch introduced himself. Gordon nodded and shook the rest of the agents' hands as well.

"Jim Gordon, nice to meet you. We've been talking with your other agents for a while,"

"We hear you guys are some of the best in the country," Garcia greeted him eager, pumping his hand up and down repeatedly. "Maybe you can be of some help."

"We hope so," Hotch said, glancing over at Reid and Morgan, "What have we got so far?"

Morgan glanced back at the school, sighing heavily, "Not much more than what's in the file, we only got a few hours of interrogation on him and he didn't say much,"

Hotch glanced down at the cast on his arm, "How's the arm?"

"Not bad, I can work," Morgan assured him. Hotch looked skeptical, shaking his head.

"I'm sure your doctor would disagree," he murmured, turning to Reid, "How are you, Reid?"

"Fine," Reid nodded, but he wasn't exactly looking at Hotch, he was looking past him and out the open tent flap toward the school. It had been quiet and dark for hours. What was the Joker doing in there?

"Nothing broken, just a few scrapes and bruises, honestly."

Hotch nodded, "Any word from inside?"

"Not since first contact earlier this afternoon," Gordon answered, stepping forward, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's been quiet since then. We can't spot movement inside from here and we don't want to get too close and set him off."

"So you're stuck here," Rossi summed up quietly, eyeing the school with narrowed eyes. "Any way you can get eyes and ears inside?"

Gordon shook his head, "Not without going inside the main building. The Auditorium is directly in the center, no windows and only two doors, both inside. He'd hear us coming before we got there and there's no telling how he'd react."

"He didn't name any demands when he called earlier?" Prentiss frowned, "He has to want something."

"Not this guy," Gordon shook his head, "You haven't met him, Agent –"

"Prentiss," she answered, "What do you mean?"

"The Joker isn't a typical 'mobster'," Reid spoke up, "He's not even a normal terrorist. He's not doing this because of some belief system or monetary gain. He just wants to cause trouble. He enjoys watching people run and panic…" he paused for a moment, "And then there's Batman."

JJ raised a brow, "The vigilante?"

Reid nodded, noticing that Gordon was watching him a bit more carefully when he mentioned the Dark Knight. "When we interrogated him, the Joker told me a story. He fixated on Batman and almost came out and said that he became who he is to give Batman someone to challenge."

"You think that's what he wants?" Hotch frowned, "Batman?"

"I don't know," Reid said, "Could be. He seemed extremely obsessed with him. If that's what he wants, how are we supposed to get in touch with him?"

"The Batman's wanted felon," Hotch said, frowning, "We aren't going to get in touch with him."

"He's got to keep a close watch on the news," Prentiss pointed out, "He probably already knows that the Joker's here and he's just waiting for nightfall to make his move."

"Well in that case we'll have two criminals to apprehend," Hotch pointed out, not missing the look on Gordon's face as he said it. "Right now let's just focus on getting through to the Joker. Have you got a phone number for the Auditorium?"

"We've got a phone set up over here," Gordon nodded, leading them to a table set up in the middle of the tent, "We've tried getting through to him a few times but he's not picking up. Our negotiators are getting nowhere."

Hotch frowned, "Alright, Rossi, you make the call. Maybe he'll pick up this time."

Rossi nodded and moved toward the phone. It was just a normal, white landline that they'd hooked up in the tent, wires trailing down around the table. There wasn't anything about it that really stood out other than the fact that it was a very old model phone that probably didn't get much use any longer. And at that moment it was the most important tool in the entire city of Gotham.

Rossi reached out to lift the phone off the hook but just before his fingers brushed the plastic surface the phone let out a shrill, peeling ring, shaking slightly in its casing. The cops and agents – and Mayor – all froze, eyes darting around the tent as an eerie silence fell. The Joker was calling…

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>The Joker sat in one of the folding chairs in the Auditorium. It was a large room with bright lights and rows of seats set up like in a movie theater with a large stage near the front. Three of his men were standing on the stage, guns pointed at the crowd of students and teachers who were all huddled in the west side of the room, ever seat taken, the teachers holding some of the younger children.<p>

The other four armed men stood around the section, guns hanging idly at their sides as they watched the restless crowd. No one had said a word in over an hour, though some of the younger kids were still crying. The Joker was seated in the far east section of chairs, gun hanging over his legs as he stretched across three of the uncomfortable seats, humming to himself. There was a telephone sitting on the seat direction in front of him and he had the receiver in his hands, holding it up to his ear.

His dark eyes were glued to the clock and he had a twisted grin on his face. Not even his men knew what he was planning. The phone had been ringing off and on for hours but the Joker had made no move to answer it yet. And now he was sitting there, making a call, humming some mindless tune to himself.

He sat up abruptly, causing the rifle to clatter to the floor, setting off the sensitive trigger and shooting a small hail of bullets into the wall, making several people scream and startling the henchmen. The Joker appeared unperturbed, leaning forward, hunched over, pressing the phone against his ear and smearing his make-up.

"Helloooo," he grinned brightly, chuckling to himself. "Is this the Com-_ish_-on-errrrrr," he drug the word out, smacking his lips together as he did. Gordon had answered the first call and the Joker assumed that he'd been the one making all the previous calls that he'd ignored.

_"No,"_ a deep male voice responded on the other end of the phone line and the Joker raised his painted brows, whistling for a moment. _"This is SSA David Rossi; I'm with the Behavior Analysis Unit."_

"Oh _really_!" his eyes lit up as he grinned even more widely. His men on the stage took their eyes off the hostages for a moment to glance at their boss apprehensively. The near giddiness that the madman was displaying at the moment was enough to put them on edge even when the assault rifle wouldn't.

"Well this is a _surprise _isn't it?" The Joker laughed, "I was just speaking to two agents from there…" he trailed off and tilted his head thoughtfully, "Maybe you know my new friend. His name's _Spencey_…"

The agent hesitated, probably consulting with the other people gathered around outside. The Joker couldn't risk going out himself to look but he knew how these things went. The cops were all stationed outside, as close as they were willing to get, standing around a telephone just waiting for a call. And, apparently, they'd called in the FBI this time. The thought made him ecstatic. He always loved new people.

_"You mean Agent Reid?"_

"_That's _the one!" The Joker clapped a hand on his knee, nodding vigorously. "Is he there? I'd _love_ to talk to him,"

Another pause. That was a yes then. Agent Reid was there and this Agent Rossi wasn't sure he wanted to put him on the phone or not. Of course, he would. The Joker knew how the police worked. Trap a room of children with a group of armed men and they'll risk anything to put it to an end as quickly as possible.

_"You want to talk to Agent Reid?"_

The Joker's grin turned predatory as he nodded. He only wished these agents could see him. They'd be out of their minds with terror. His appearance always seemed to have that effect on people. They didn't like him for some reason.

"Yes," he nodded, "_Spencey _is far more interesting than you. We _shared _something… He _**understands **_me."

He knew that would get them. Claim any sort of connection and they'll do what he wanted. Besides, Spencer really was more interesting than those other boring agents. Something about the young man just reminded him of Batman… Or maybe himself. He wasn't sure; he got the two confused so often.

It still took a few moments, during which he was sure that the agents and cops were having some ridiculously tedious argument about whether or not putting Agent Reid on the phone was in their best interest. But once again, he was proven right as he heard the murmuring voices fall quiet and the phone was picked up again.

_"This is Agent Reid," _he recognized the softer male voice immediately and his grin stretched to his ears.

"Spencey!" he giggled to himself, "I'm _so glad _you could come! It's beginning to get _boring _in here."

_"Then why don't you let the children and teachers go and do something more fun?"_

The Joker laughed a barked laugh and shook his head, "Oh, Spencey… I get the feeling you wouldn't approve of my idea of more 'fun'. It could be a bit… _messy_…"

The young agent didn't miss a beat however. The Joker found himself mildly impressed, _"Tell me what you'd rather be doing then, I'll see what I can do. Just as long as you let the children go unharmed."_

He raised his brows again, his scarred lips twitching as he fought off another it of laughter. "Hmm, since you're so _keen _to help me… Why don't you come inside, Spencey? I'll let the _kiddies _go if you join me…"

Once again, the agent surprised the Joker when he didn't hesitate for a moment. _"Okay. Send them out and I'll go in."_

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: **Hmm… That's my first intentional "cliffhanger". It feels wrong to end it there, but the next chapter is where things sort of get off a bit more. And I do believe that means the BAU (at least some of them) will get to meet the infamous Batman XD

So, hope you guys enjoyed it! And please forgive me for making you wait. These chapters are longer than what I normally write and also, time is short and life hates me. Anyway…

Please review!


	5. A Small Taste of Darkness

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **So, another late chapter. Sorry guys. I struggled with this chapter for some reason. I don't know why, but the beginning was difficult to force out.

Thanks so much to all of the reviewers/readers! You guys are fantastic and I love you. Thanks for your support/encouragement/understanding/reviews! You're all awesome. And YES I do read all of my reviews, what kind of person would I be not to?

Back to the story! Please don't forget to review!

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: A Small Taste of Darkness<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_"Tell me what you'd rather be doing then, I'll see what I can do. Just as long as you let the children go unharmed."_

_He raised his brows again, his scarred lips twitching as he fought off another fit of laughter. "Hmm, since you're so __**keen**__ to help me… Why don't you come inside, Spencey? I'll let the kiddies go if you join me…"_

_Once again, the agent surprised the Joker when he didn't hesitate for a moment. "Okay. Send them out and I'll go in."_

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><p>As Reid hung the phone up he turned to face Hotch and the staring police commissioner, who was blinking at him in shock. Before he could say anything at all, Morgan rounded on him with wide, angry eyes.<p>

"What the hell are you thinking, Reid? We can't send you in there! You're hurt; you just got out of the hospital a few hours ago –" Morgan was absolutely livid. He used his free arm to grasp the younger agent by the shoulder and hold him still while he stared at him like he'd just lost his mind.

Reid let him yell, giving him a chance to vent his frustration before he stepped back and removed his hand from his shoulder, "We need to get inside somehow, Morgan. And if this will get those kids out of there, I'm willing to do it."

"Reid, the Joker isn't going to let you walk in there with wires. He's smart enough to know we'll try that," Hotch said, eyeing his agent worriedly. Reid had been known to do reckless things in the past and Hotch was just praying that this wasn't going to be one of those things. Whenever he did something like that it usually meant that something was going on with him that he didn't want to discuss.

"I know, Hotch, but… We have to try," Reid remained adamant. "If he's willing to let the children go, what have we got to lose?"

"How can we trust him?" Gordon demanded, "This is the Joker we're talking about, he's not exactly known for being honest."

Reid sighed, "We have to. What other options do we have? Hotch, I can do this, alright. For some reason, he liked me. You can't deny that, Morgan,"

Morgan shook his head, "No, but that doesn't mean I want you going in there and getting yourself killed by this bastard. This is serious, kid –"

"So?" Reid frowned, "How is it any different from any of the other times we risk our lives every single day to catch UnSubs? We've got a chance to save these kids at least and we should take it. Maybe I can get him to talk; we might even learn something about him. But we won't know unless we try."

Reid's eyes were pleading with Hotch and Gordon to listen to reason. This was their one chance to get those kids out of there; it wasn't going to happen so easily any other way and they all knew it. He was more than willing to take the risk if it got them closer to ending this nightmare.

Morgan looked between the agents, shaking his head, "Hotch, you aren't really going to let him do this are you?"

Hotch pressed his lips together tightly, his mouth becoming one solid line across his face before he relented, nodding. "Alright, fine. You can go in, but not without being prepared first,"

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><p>Bruce edged his way to the front of the crowd, ignoring the reporters who were gathered tightly around the police barricade. He couldn't see much from where he was currently standing and his eyes kept wandering toward the sky, the sun lingering in the same place it seemed to have been for hours. The time between the present and sunset seemed to stretch like an eternity before him.<p>

He'd spotted Gordon and a small group of FBI agents gathered inside a large tent they'd set up a few hundred yards away from the main school building. It looked like they were having some sort of argument about something. Bruce would've loved to be able to hear what they were discussing; maybe they'd heard something new from inside. He wasn't sure, but he knew that one way or another they needed to get ears and eyes in the Auditorium if they wanted to know what was going on.

He was studying the school as best he could, trying to figure out the best way that Batman could enter without attracting the police or the Joker's attention. From where he was standing, the only way in was the main entrance but he knew that there was another entrance through the Cafeteria's back door that lead right into the main building. He'd somehow have to make his way around dozens of officers and FBI agents who weren't exactly Batman's biggest supporters, but it was doable, he decided.

He was about to turn back and make his way to the Lamborghini again and his 'Bat Cave' when a sudden commotion from the school drew his eye and he saw, to his amazement, two armed men wearing clown masks standing just inside the front door, a line of children behind them, stretching back into the halls.

"What's he doing?" he muttered to himself. This didn't make any sense at all and Bruce pushed further toward the front of the crowd, shocked when he saw a young FBI agent, wearing a thick Kevlar vest and sporting a revolver hanging awkwardly at his side, step forward from the tent.

Two other agents, one who was wearing a cast on his arm and a small blond female, stepped out with him along with Gordon, who appeared to be quickly telling the young man something. The agent nodded briskly and moved away from the group, stepping right up to the entrance of the school.

Brue held his breath along with the agents and cops. A strange tension had fallen over the entire crowd and whispers were already beginning to run through it like ripples in a wave.

_"What's he doing?"_

_"What's going on?"_

_"Are they going in?"_

_"Is he letting the children go?"_

_"What's happening?"_

For his part, Bruce just hoped the agent didn't get shot in the head by one of the murderous clown's henchmen.

They all stood, tense and watching, as the doors to the school swung open further. The agent hesitated for a second and then mounted the stairs slowly, stopping just inside the entrance as the doors closed shut behind him.

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>Reid hadn't been aware that he was shaking slightly until the doors of the school slammed shut ominously behind him. His nerves were on edge, but he wasn't about to let the Joker see that. He was standing at the far end of the hall, behind all of the children, a large assault rifle in his hands.<p>

Reid swallowed roughly and fought that small, niggling urge to look away from him. He'd been terrifying enough without the make-up; the creepy red grin that was now painted on his face only seemed to make the Joker appear even more otherworldly. Like some clown-faced demon from Hell.

He was watching Reid with a curious smile, his dark eyes lit with curiosity. His lips quirked into a deadly sort of smirk. "_Hello, Spencey! _Long time, no _see!_"

Reid raised a brow at the man, his eyes darting away for a moment, looking to the throng of children, all looking pale and terrified, holding hands, clinging to each other desperately.

"It was just yesterday," he pointed out, pressing his lips together. He could feel every set of eyes outside turned toward him through the closed doors, their anxious gazes burning into the back of his skull. "Remember? When you blew up Arkham?"

The Joker burst out laughing, the armed clowns next to him shifting slightly and glancing at each other. "_I _didn't blow it up!" he said, grinning that insane grin of his that made Reid somewhat uncomfortable. "I was _locked up_, remember, Spencey? In that tiny little cell. In the back of the _hos-pit-all_."

Reid sighed and nodded slowly, looking down at his feet for a moment. "Alright, fine. Your men blew it up because you ordered them to."

The Joker smiled brightly, nodding. He tilted his head curiously, like an animal examining something new that had invaded its habitat. His dark eyes roved over the skinny agent and Reid fought the urge to squirm. He didn't know what it was about the Joker that made his skin crawl and his stomach turn uncomfortably, but those eyes of his seemed to have the ability to see right into his soul.

"What's with the _vest, _Spencey? Don't you _trust _me?"

Reid winced and looked down at the flak jacket, "Not really," he admitted reluctantly. "You _have_ killed hundreds of people, not to mention terrorized an entire city."

The Joker's lips twisted even more, "This city was being _terrorized _a loooong time before _I _showed up, Spencey! Now, do me a _favor, _will ya? Get rid of the gun and take off the vest."

Reid hesitated, "I can't do that,"

The Joker raised one of his painted eyebrows, shaking his head sadly. "Then I'm _afraid _you can't _come in_. And these poor little kiddies will be stuck here for a little bit longer…" His eyes sparkled and Reid took a deep breath, glancing back toward the door.

_"Reid, don't do it."_ Hotch's voice was in his ear. _"You are not going in there unprotected."_

The Joker waited patiently, "What's the _matter_, Spencey? Did the little _voice _in your head tell you not to help the _itty-bitty _children?"

Reid winced when Morgan's voice came over the speaker then, _"Kid, don't you dare. Do not take that vest off."_

But it was already a lost argument. Reid long fingers undid the straps on his vest and he chucked it to the side, feeling a thousand times more vulnerable without it, but not allowing himself even one second to consider turning back.

"And the _gun_," The Joker nodded toward the revolver hanging awkwardly at Reid's hip and Reid closed his eyes, pressing his lips together as his hand slowly went to his side.

_"Reid don't! You can't trust this guy, he's dangerous! Get out of there now!"_

Reid was very tempted to do just that, but he wasn't about to leave these children, not when he could save them. So he jerked the gun out of its holster, held it in his hands for a brief moment and then took a deep breath, tossing it aside. It landed on top of his flak jacket and as soon as it was gone the Joker's eyes gleamed brightly and he nodded jerkily.

"Alright _boys_, open the doors! Let the little kiddies go!"

The clown-masked henchmen hesitated, but stepped forward again and pushed the doors open, ushering the children out, past Reid, holding their guns on them the entire time. They could hear gasps of relief coming from outside the school as the kids started running towards the gates and their parents. It took a couple of minutes for them to all exit the building.

"_Now,_" The Joker lifted his gun, pointing it at Reid with that same wicked smile on his face. "This way, Spencey!" He spun suddenly on his heels and marched down the hall. Reid only hesitated for a moment when the Joker's men hefted their own guns and aimed them in his direction.

He followed as far behind as he could, taking deliberate steps until they reached the Auditorium. His sharp eyes swept over the room, spotting five other armed men guarding the teachers and staff, all huddled in a tight group as far away from the Joker as they could possibly get.

As soon as they entered the room the doors were slammed closed behind them and the men quickly took up their positions guarding the other hostages. Hotch, Morgan and Gordon were all practically yelling in Reid's ear by this point, telling him that what he'd just done was stupid, reckless and dangerous. Honestly, Reid wasn't all that concerned about it. He'd gotten the children out of there safely and all that remained were the teachers and staff. He'd just have to get the Joker talking to figure out how to sort this mess out properly.

The Joker made his way to the front of the Auditorium and sat down, stretching his legs out in front of himself and tossing the rifle haphazardly over the back of the seat. His eyes shone brightly as he smiled at Reid and lifted one purple gloved hand and motioned for him to come closer.

Casting his eyes around the space with interest, Reid made his way to the front and sat down where the Joker pointed him, leaving only one chair between the two of them.

"You don't have very many men," Reid noted, nodding toward the seven men. He'd expected there to be more of them, but either the others were somewhere else in the school or there really were only seven of them.

The Joker's dark eyes slid over to the men and his curved lips fell a bit as he shrugged, "I don't _need _a lot of guns, Spencey," he informed him, turning that penetrating gaze on the FBI agent. He leaned forward suddenly and from inside his jacket he produced a small knife, the blade shining brightly in the room.

Instinctively, Reid flinched back from it as the man scooted as close to him as he could, "I _prefer _to use a _**knife**_," he paused and tilted his head, studying the blade for a moment. "Do you wanna know _why?_"

"I think I can guess," Reid said, shifting in his seat so that he was sitting just the tiniest bit closer. He knew the team was listening in and the more they could hear, the better off they were. He wasn't sure exactly why the Joker hadn't made him remove the wire; he clearly knew he was wearing one. But maybe he wanted them to hear what he had to say.

"Oh you c_an?_" The Joker sat up straighter in his seat, painted brows rising slightly as he grinned. "Please, _en-light-en _me, Spencey!"

Reid was somewhat thrown off by the eager, interested look on the Joker's face. He started slowly, carefully taking in the slightest changes in his expression, "Knives are more personal," he said, "You can shoot a person from a distance but to kill them with a knife you have to get close unless you use a throwing knife."

The Joker nodded excitedly, "Mhm! _Exactly, _I like to get to _know _them, take in all those _little _emotions,"

Reid's lips twitched slightly, "'In their last moments, people show you who they really are'," he said quietly, his voice somber. The Joker blinked and grinned brightly, nodding.

"You've been doing your _research_, haven't you, Spencey?" he giggled and leaned very close, reaching out so fast that Reid hardly had time to flinch. His gloved fingers wrapped around the agent's arm and he tugged him out of the seat and towards him until they were standing very close together, hardly an inch of space between them.

The Joker leaned his face in slowly, holding the knife up to Reid's eyelevel, his own eyes twinkling.

"It's almost _nighttime_," he whispered, glancing over at the other hostages and his men. "Do you know what that means, Spencey? _Hmm_?"

Reid swallowed heavily, keeping his eyes on the knife that the Joker was dangling so close to his face. His heart was pounding unsteadily in his chest and he could hear the quit voices of the team in his ear, telling him to keep him talking. Gordon said something about keeping his distance, but Reid could hardly understand them. His own heart was pounding too loudly in his ears for that.

It took him a moment to answer, but the Joker's gleaming eyes never left his and he took a shallow breath.

"Batman," he said. It was always Batman and it always would be Batman. Reid had come to the conclusion that the Joker was obsessed with the vigilante for some reason. More than obsessed, really. He felt compelled to play this game for no other reason than challenging the city's former protector, now outlaw.

The Joker's red lips curved into a sinister grin and he nodded, "_Batman_,"

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><p>Prentiss frowned, shaking her head. "I don't get it," she said, looking around at the group around the table. "He knows we're listening, but he didn't even tell Reid to get rid of the wire. Why?"<p>

Gordon shook his head, "The Joker rarely makes sense, Agent Prentiss,"

"But he's giving us an advantage. If Reid can get him talking about his plans, about what he wants, about how he's going to get it…" JJ trailed off, looking as perplexed as everyone else as they stood around the table. Gordon appeared to be more on edge than any of them except perhaps Morgan, who was currently sitting in a folding chair, glaring at the speaker and fuming over his friend's stupidity.

How could he go in there unarmed and unprotected? Was he trying to get himself killed? Of course, Morgan knew that all Reid had done was make sure those children were out of there before the Joker decided to do something rash. And it had worked, the children were being returned home to their parents and the crowd outside had thinned out just a bit. Not enough for their liking, of course.

The Mayor had disappeared about an hour ago, talking briskly on the phone to the new District Attorney. None of them were especially anxious to meet him, but they knew they'd have to deal with him sooner or later. After Harvey Dent's death the new DA had to work harder than ever getting Gotham into shape and he wasn't going to be absent at a time like this.

"He said it's almost night," Hotch said, his jaw set in its usual hard line, dark eyes unwavering as they looked up and caught Gordon's gaze. "Batman's coming,"

Gordon frowned at the agent, shaking his head, "Gotham Police are not working with the Batman," he said, his voice hard. "We haven't called him."

"But this is all over the news," Rossi said, "He has to have seen it. He knows that the Joker escaped Arkham. He'll be here sooner or later."

"Later," Gordon said, glancing out at the purple sky. They probably had about forty-five minutes of daylight left. "He never shows up during the day, it's always at night."

Morgan followed Gordon's eyes to the sky and made a face, "So we'll be seeing him soon if he's stupid enough to try and get inside with FBI agents and cops swarming all over the place,"

They all noticed the way Gordon's face tightened at the words and how his fists clenched. For some reason none of them were sure of, this man did not think Batman was the villain that the rest of Gotham did. He was careful to keep his eyes on the sky when he answered, "No offense, Agent Morgan, but you haven't seen Batman in action. If he can take out an entire SWAT team, he can get past a few reporters and cops without being seen."

"Let him try; he won't get far past us," a new voice behind them spoke and they turned to see Mayor Garcia and another man making their way to the table they were all gathered around. The man was tall and wiry with thick brown hair that curled slightly at the ends and he was wearing a pair of round glasses that seemed to make his large golden eyes even larger.

He smiled and greeted Hotch first, holding out his hand, "Brian Forsyth," he said earnestly, "Gotham DA. And you must be Agent Hotchner, am I right?"

"Yes, and this is my team –"

"Ah, don't tell me. Agent Prentiss, Agent Rossi, Agent Jareau and Agent Morgan," the DA smiled and nodded to each other them in turn. "I've been doing my own research since the Mayor called and said you'd flown in… But where's Agent Reid?"

"Inside," Gordon said, nodding to the school. "I thought that'd be on the news already."

Forsyth frowned, turning around and staring at the school, "I try not to watch the news as much as I can," he murmured offhandedly. "What do you mean 'inside'?"

"He's means Agent Reid is inside. He negotiated the release of the children and went in himself," Hotch answered.

"The kids are safe then?" he asked, turning to meet Hotch's stern gaze with an anxious one of his own.

"Yes," Gordon nodded, "He let them go. They've all been returned to their families. But we've still got at least twenty members of Gotham Elementary staff inside. Probably more, we haven't got an exact number yet."

"The agent didn't wear a wire?"

"Of course he did," Morgan frowned up at the DA, "But he can't just tell us what we want to know. He'd lose the wire or get himself killed,"

"Right, right," Forsyth nodded absently and Gordon fought the urge to roll his eyes. The new DA wasn't exactly the most popular man and Gordon was loathe to admit that he was even good at the job despite that fact that he did get results. Gordon didn't like the man or trust him to be able to follow up Harvey's work in any way. He hadn't been in Gotham during the Joker's reign of terror and therefore only knew about it from newspapers and GCN reporters. He hadn't felt that fear, the desperation that others had. As far as Gordon was concerned, Forsyth had no idea what he was up against.

"Well, at least you've made some progress," Forsyth said, loosening his tie a bit. "That's something. I have a feeling this is going to be a long night for us,"

They quieted down and leaned over the speaker, listening to the conversation that was going on between the Joker and Reid. Gordon quietly got the Mayor up to speed with everything while ignoring Forsyth's questioning looks every now and then.

_"So this is all to get Batman here, then?"_

Reid's voice was a bit shaky and Morgan didn't want to know what was causing his friend to be so scared. Even under stress – actually, especially under stress – Reid always seemed to appear calmer than most people. Of course, being locked in a room with the Joker was probably a bit more than just 'under stress'.

_"_Welll_ll_, _when you put it _that _way, Spencey, I suppose it _is," the Joker's voice was slick and breathy over the speakers and it sounded to Morgan as if he were perpetually on the verge of another deranged fit of laughter. Briefly the memory of that laugh flashed through his mind and he shuddered.

_"Why?"_

_"Hmm… I told you already, Spencey. It's because Batman needs me,"_

There was a beat of silence and Morgan almost smiled, hearing Reid's voice steadier than it had been as he responded.

_"Or you need him,"_

The Joker chuckled and they heard a sharp gasp that could only have come from Reid. Morgan shifted up in his seat, his muscles tense. He knew that if Reid were in danger he'd probably go running up to the school without a second thought.

_"Very observant, Spencey,"_ the Joker laughed again, _"Maybe you're right. Maybe I _do _need good-ole _Batsy _to have a little _fun!"

There was another long pause and they thought that the conversation was over for the moment until the Joker suddenly spoke again, _"But I'll tell you a secret, Spencey, _he _needs _me _as much as_ I_ need _him_."_

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><p>Bruce had left the school as soon as the children walked out and had already donned his mask and was preparing to leave. He glanced back at the monitors that were displaying several different images at once.<p>

The most prominent was that of Gotham Elementary on the GCN news. They'd had no word since the children had been released, but there were still over a dozen members of teaching staff and administration inside and now an FBI agent as well. They didn't name the agent, but Bruce recognized him as one of the two who'd been sent to question the Joker in Arkham previously.

Maybe he'd formed some report with the clown. Hopefully that would give the kid some kind of advantage because Bruce was sure that he would need it. The news networks were all reporting on the hostage situation and there had been no mention of the other two escaped inmates yet. Of course, they also hadn't mentioned that the police had caught three of them with the help of the Batman either.

Bruce eyed the monitors for a second more and then turned and quickly made his way to the exit. It wasn't quite dark out yet, but dark enough to suit Bruce's purposes.

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><p>The Joker put the knife away, thankfully, but didn't release Reid's arm. He tugged the young agent closer and pulled him along as they walked up the narrow steps leading to the stage. Reid was fighting the urge to jerk his arm out of the man's grip and instead, swept his eyes back to the terrified hostages. Most of them were curled up in their seats, eyes following the Joker's ever move. Some were watching the rifles aimed at them, but they knew that the men wouldn't fire without orders from their boss.<p>

The stage was cluttered with props, probably from a recent school play that they hadn't quite finished dismantling. Bits of cardboard sky and trees still sat piled in the corner behind the curtain and glitter winked at them from the ground.

Reid glanced sideways at the Joker and took a breath, licking his lips nervously. He had to get the Joker talking somehow, he knew that much. But exactly how wasn't so easy a task. He was sure that bringing up Batman would give way to a lengthy conversation, but he was more interested in exactly who the Joker was and had been now.

His brows furrowed, "When we first talked, you said you were going to tell me something," he said slowly.

The Joker paused, blinking and then grinning broadly. "I _did_, I did!" he laughed gently, nodding. "I just got so _caught up _in your _fascinating _personality, Spencey…"

Reid wasn't sure that that remark gave him any comfort. In fact, it seemed to put him more on edge. The Joker was fascinated with Batman and look at how that relationship was playing out. He spoke carefully, "What secret were you going to tell me?"

The Joker's grin stretched to frightening proportions and Reid didn't look the man directly in the eye as they made their way to the middle of the stage, "Oh, _Spencey_, it's the _biggest_, _**hugest**_ secret!" he said excitedly, "You won't believe me if I tell you!"

Reid frowned. He'd said that before, the first time he'd promised to tell him the secret. Reid wanted to know what it was. Was it some secret from his past, some forgotten tidbit that he didn't want to mention? Or was it just another one of his tricks? Another lie? If that were true, why didn't he just come out and say it?

"Try me," Reid said carefully, "I might believe you."

The Joker's lips twitched and he shook his head. "Too _late_, Spencey. I'm _saving _it for something much more… _spectacular."_

A dark, excited light shone in his eyes and Reid frowned as he was guided to two folding chairs in the opposite corner of the stage and the Joker finally released his arm, pushing him down into one of the chairs and taking the other for himself.

"Is that what this is for?" he asked.

The Joker didn't answer this time, just grinning at the young agent with that disturbingly excited grin of his.

Frowning, Reid decided to try a different line of questioning. He leaned forward and frowned, "Why are you doing this? Not… not just holding these people hostage, but any of it? Why do it? If it's not for the money, what's your goal?"

The Joker chuckled, "You _cops _are all the same, Spencey. Just because I do something _bad _you think I've got to _gain _something. I told you, Spencey, I just _do _things."

Reid shook his head, "That's not what I meant," he insisted, "I mean, you haven't always been 'The Joker'. You had another life before this, before creating all of this chaos and challenging Batman. What was it that changed? Why did you decide to do _any _of the things you've done?"

The Joker's smile softened until it was actually dangerously close to normal. "Well_ll, _Spencey, I'm a_fraid _that's a loooong story… And reeeaaallly _boring. _We don't have _time _to discuss that,"

Reid eyed him curiously, "Why not?" he asked, brows furrowed together.

Before he could answer, the bright lights in the room suddenly went out and the hostages and henchmen gasped in unison. Squinting through the darkness, Reid could just make them out, the men lifting their masks to clear their vision. Somewhere in the farthest corner of the room, a dark shadow was moving, but Reid couldn't see more than just a vague shape.

The Joker sprang out of his seat and yanked Reid up with him, spinning him around and pulling him into his chest until his back was pressed against him and he could feel his hot breath at his ear. The sharp bite of the knife pressed against the underside of his jaw and Reid's heart was once again going into overdrive.

The Joker's mouth was pressed close to his ear and he grimaced at he whispered hoarsely, shoving the knife against his throat so hard a small trickle of blood made its way down the side of his neck.

"The _**Bat**__man _is here,"

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><p><strong>AN: **So I lied a teeny bit. The team didn't meet Batman yet. But that's because writing to that part would have made this chapter ridiculously long. So it'll have to wait until next chapter, unfortunately.

Also, a quick note, I know almost EXACTLY what I'm going to do with this story. I know where it's going and mostly how it's getting there. It's going to be a very dark story, I'll warn you now. A very dark and realistic story. Just a quick warning.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please let me know what you think!


	6. Dark Pawns and White Knights

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **First, thanks so much for all of the wonderful reviews. You guys are wonderful and amazing and I'm seriously thrilled at how well this story has been received so far.

And yes, **S.P.J.N.D.**, I did read your reviews and I thank you for your suggestions very much. I always read every one of my reviews, I promise.

I'm sorry this took a bit to be posted. I was really struggling with the Batman scenes in this chapter and had a teeny bit of writer's block.

Anyway, thank you so much to everyone! And now *finally* we see Batman in action. I'm chewing on my nails right now, extremely nervous about how well I did here. I've never written Batman before (I tend to view Bruce and Batman as separate entities and we've only had glimpses of Batman in this fic so far) so please let me know if you think I've screwed up somehow – and leave suggestions for how to fix it if you feel it's subpar.

Please review!

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: Dark Pawns and White Knights<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_The Joker sprang out of his seat and yanked Reid up with him, spinning him around and pulling him into his chest until his back was pressed against him and he could feel his hot breath at his ear. The sharp bite of the knife pressed against the underside of his jaw and Reid's heart was once again going into overdrive._

_The Joker's mouth was pressed close to his ear and he grimaced at he whispered hoarsely, shoving the knife against his throat so hard a small trickle of blood made its way down the side of his neck._

_"The __**Bat**__man is here,"_

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><p>There was a moment of silence in the tent outside as the agents, cops and officials all stared at the speaker, dumbstruck. Forsyth was the first to recover, looking up and wiping his hair from his eyes as he looked around the group.<p>

"Did he just say Batman?" he demanded.

Gordon was fighting very hard not to look too relieved. Batman was there, which meant that hopefully this nightmare would soon be over. If they were very lucky, this night would end with the Joker and his men being captured and minimal deaths.

Then all they'd have to worry about would be exactly where they were going to keep the Arkham inmates. They certainly didn't have room at the county lockup anymore and even the holding cells in the MCU wouldn't be enough. They'd rounded up the remaining inmates and the three that had been recaptured and were working to transport them to another facility off the island, but they still ran into the problem of space. And the facility they were sending the inmates to for the time being certainly didn't want to play home to the infamous Joker.

"I believe he did," Gordon said slowly, not missing the looks that Agent Morgan and Agent Hotchner were giving him. He knew they didn't approve of the vigilante and they suspected that he supported him, but he was used to it and ignored the looks.

"How did he manage that?" the Mayor looked half furious, half relieved. Clearly, he wasn't going to show the Batman support, especially not here, but he was glad that someone who knew how to handle to Joker was there to do something about this mess.

"That's not important," Hotchner said, "Right now, we need to focus. Reid? Can you hear me? What's going on? Can you see anything?"

There was a pause. They knew Reid probably couldn't answer directly, but they needed to know what was happening in there. Right now the Auditorium was silent, all they could hear was heavy breathing over the speakers – that must have been the Joker.

_"…It's dark,"_

Reid finally answered, his voice a strained whisper, like he could hardly manage to speak at all. The Joker's voice quickly followed, a low, harsh hiss.

_"Ah, ah, ah, Spencey, no talking to your __**team**__. They'll only get in the way…"_

They heard a sharp, pained gasp and Hotch shut his eyes tight, swearing under his breath. "Alright, we need to get inside there, is there any other way in besides the front entrance?"

"I don't know," Gordon admitted, "We can't go in without spooking the Joker anyway. Who knows what he's got inside? His men will just start shooting hostages if we try to get in."

"Maybe not," Hotch said, "He's distracted now. We might be able to get inside… Batman got in there somehow. He didn't go through the front, so he went around another way. Morgan, call Garcia. Get the blueprints if the school. If there's another way in, she'll find it."

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><p>Bruce had been surprised just how easily he'd managed to get into the school. There had only been a few officers stationed around the other side of the building and he'd taken them out quickly before slipping into the building itself.<p>

The first thing he did was cut the lights. The darkness was his advantage in this situation. He could practically feel the tension in the room as the seven clown-masked henchmen swung their rifles away from the hostages and toward his general direction. Not that he was too worried. The armor would protect him. Mostly. And they couldn't see him anyway. They'd lifted their masks, but visibility was still too low for them.

He heard murmuring voices from up front. The Joker and the FBI agent whose name he still didn't know. He moved quickly and silently from the back of the Auditorium, eyes fixed ahead at the stage where the Joker was still waiting. He could practically see the man's insane grin spread across his face. If the lights had been on, he'd be able to see that excitement shining in the clown's eyes.

He just brushed past the first of the men, who gasped and swung around, finger anxiously resting on the trigger. It didn't take much force to yank the gun away from the man and swing it up, knocking the gunman in the face, the crunch of bones and the squelch of blood breaking the tense silence. Another man moved toward him and he used the gun in his hands once again, this time slamming it into the side of his skull and then dropping the gun.

Two down. Five to go. Not counting the Joker.

The other five were farther up, Bruce could hear them shifting and squirming where they stood. They'd heard their two colleagues fall and had no desire to be attacked themselves. One man let out a hail of bullets, causing the hostages to scream, but they arched wide and missed Bruce entirely by several feet. Swiftly, he sprang into action and yanked the gun, and it's holder, forward, twisting the barrel around and tying the strap around the man's throat, listening as his grunted breaths became quiet and he let him drop to the ground.

The next two men moved closer in the darkness, barely able to make out the shadow within the shadows and Bruce smiled, that tingling feeling of adrenaline rushing through his veins. He swung his arm up and caught the gun from the man's hands, deftly swinging his free arm up and delivering a painful blow to the man's solar plexus. His knees buckled and he was gasping for breath. Another elbow to the chest and he removed the gun entirely.

The man on his left swung the gun toward him, managing to land a solid hit to his armor. Luckily, the man was small and the blow didn't cause that much damage. Just as he realized that it was pointless, Bruce caught hold of the gun, spun the man around and kicked his knees out from under him, hitting him in the back of the head with the rifle. He fell down next to his comrade and Bruce moved forward.

The next two men were just as easily taken down and Bruce decided that the Joker needed better henchmen. And also that he much preferred fighting in the darkness. He made his way past the hostages, who were still curled up, terrified, and stopped at the edge of the stage when he heard the Joker's quiet chuckles.

Up close, even in the darkness, the Joker's white face glowed and Bruce's upper lip curled slightly as he caught sight of the terrified looking agent currently being held at knifepoint. The kid couldn't be older than thirty and they'd sent him in to deal with the Joker?

He heard a faint tapping noise and realized the Joker was clapping his free hand against the one holding the knife, causing it to jar slightly, the blade skirting along the agent's throat.

"Very _good, __**Batsy**__,"_ he could hear the grin in his voice. "You took out all my little _men _in just a few minutes…"

Bruce was silent for a tense moment, trying to assess the situation. As far as he could tell, there were no bombs set to explode any time soon and all of the Joker's men were incapacitated and their guns removed. The only real threat left then, was the Joker himself. And he was far more dangerous than any bomb. And then there was the FBI agent – a kid, really – who stood between him and the Joker.

"Let the kid go," Bruce said, keeping his eyes locked on the Joker. He noticed how the agent visibly grimaced when he called him a kid, but ignored that.

The Joker laughed that terrifying, barked chortle of his that sent shivers down Bruce's spine no matter how often he denied it. If he thought bats were terrifying as a child, the Joker was what the bats would have had nightmares about.

"Oh, _Batsy_, giving you're silly little demands. It's hil-air-ee-us! Spencey and I were having a little _chat_ and you _rudely _interrupted us! But that's ok… I have other things to do anyway. People to see… More important buildings to _blow __**up**__,_"

For a moment, Bruce was confused, but he ignored that and leapt up, landing mere feet from the Joker and the agent on the stage. The Joker's grin widened and he backed away, dragging the agent with him.

"Ah, _stay. _Good _boy, Batsy,_" he pressed the knife harder against the agent's throat and the young man grunted, struggling in the Joker's grip, his expression surprisingly not one of fear and instead on of aggravation.

"Now you just stand _right there. _Because I have a little message for you and then the fun will really begin!" The near giddiness in his tone made Bruce uneasy. Whenever the Joker sounded that happy, something bad was clearly about to happen.

"Why are you here? What do you want?" Bruce demanded, doing his very best to keep his voice low and as neutral as possible, though his anger leaked out clearly and the Joker giggled at his false voice.

"That's a good _question, _Batsy… And I'll tell ya… I was never gonna hurt those little kiddies. What kind of _monster_ do you think I am?"

Bruce glared at him, his fists clenching. He wanted nothing more than to beat the Joker into nothing. Less than nothing actually. But not until he'd let the agent go. "Then why take them hostage?"

The Joker's grin slipped and became something far more sinister, his voice lowered and his eyes sparkled in the darkness.

"To get you here, Batsy," he said simply. "How _else _can I get the world to know the truth? They won't believe me if _I _tell them, but _you?_ Or your little _pal_ Commissioner Gordon? Oh, they'll hang on to your _every word._"

Bruce was now thoroughly confused, but he remained silent, waiting for the Joker to explain what was going on.

"They need to know, _Batsy,_ all those ignorant people in Gotham. They need to know the _truth_ about their White Knight. So… I'm going to give you twenty-four hours. You and _Commissioner _Gordon tell them what really became of good 'ole _Harvey Dent_ … Or the people of this _fair city_ will _**suffer**_."

Bruce's throat was tight and his heart was pounding against his chest, but he forced himself not to react to the Joker's words, instead looking for some way to get to him without harming the agent who currently had a knife to his throat.

Of course, he didn't have long to calculate because the next moment the Joker brought his free arm up and sprayed something into the agent's face before shoving him forward into Bruce and then, with a manic laugh and playful, "See you two a-_round_!" he dove off the stage and made for the exit.

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><p>The agents were just about to leave the tent and make their entrance into the building when they all froze at the mention of Harvey Dent's name. Gordon had gone white as he listened to the Joker's demands, his hands shaking in spite of himself as he realized that there was an entire team of FBI agents, not to mention the Mayor and the District Attorney, who had heard those demands. He was effectively and royally screwed.<p>

Forsyth, once again, was the first to speak after the silence. He spun around, eyes wide and fiery as he stared at the Commissioner.

"What does he mean? What's he talking about?"

Gordon went defensive immediately, glaring at the DA. He'd honestly never liked the man and this was just his excuse to prove that point. "How the hell should I know; he's the Joker, Forsyth! You can't trust him!"

"Obviously he knows something we don't, Gordon," Mayor Garcia was frowning, hands on his hips, eyeing him suspiciously. He'd accepted Gordon's weak story of what had happened that night – that he hadn't really seen what had happened to Harvey Dent and all he knew for sure was that Batman had been there – but he'd never believed it. No, Gordon knew exactly what had happened that night and he just didn't want to talk about it. Until now, Garcia had allowed him that luxury.

"You were there, Gordon. Tell us, what happened."

"I told you I don't know!" Gordon snapped, yelling over the Joker's manic laugh on the speakers, growing fainter now as they talked. He took a breath and steadied himself.

"I don't know," he repeated. He'd said that lie so often over the last five and a half months that he was starting to believe that himself.

Agent Morgan looked like he was about to say something when they heard screams erupting over the speaker. Not the screams of terrified hostages, however. Screams of one man. Agent Reid was screaming, clearly horrified. It was the absolute worst sound any of them had ever heard up to that point.

"We're wasting time," Hotch snapped, "Let's go!"

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><p>Reid had listened to the Joker's conversation with Batman carefully, trying to take it all in and committing it to memory. Of course, it was difficult to pay attention to everything when he had a knife against his neck, but he managed to pretend he wasn't some helpless hostage and remind himself that he still had a job to do.<p>

But then something hit him in the face. Some kind of spray. He gasped and choked for a second as he was violently flung forward, colliding with Batman, but then his entire world seemed to shift and he felt a horrible, creeping presence in his mind, every instinct he had screaming at him that something was very, very wrong. He looked up with wide eyes at Batman's face and he started screaming. And he didn't stop.

He thrashed and screamed and shoved the thing away from him, wanting to claw his own eyes out just to get that image out of his head. A horrible, grotesque monster with black teeth and yellow eyes had been staring down at him hungrily and he didn't want to ever see that again and so he screamed.

He wasn't aware of anything around him anymore, just the fear. He couldn't feel anything except that fear and everywhere he looked there were monsters or demons and shapes and ghosts coming out of the darkness, trying to kill him and he wanted them to just go away.

He didn't even realize he'd actually started clawing at his own eyes until powerful hands yanked them away from his face and a horribly distorted voice said "Stop! Let me help you!"

When he looked up he saw the monster from before and just screamed louder. The thing was muttering to itself then, keeping his arms pinned to his side and Reid just knew that he was about to die and that thought scared the shit out of him and he screamed some more.

But then something was jammed into his leg. And it hurt for a minute, and was gone. He gasped, his breathing accelerating and he clung to whoever was holding on to him. Slowly, his screams tapered off and his eyes rolled back in his head and he went entirely limp.

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><p>Bruce stared down at the agent for just a second, relieved that he'd finally stopped screaming. He, of course, had immediately recognized the effects of the drug, having felt them himself before. Luckily, he still carried a syringe with the antidote just in case. He was more interested, however, in how the Joker had gotten ahold of Dr. Crane's nightmare inducing drug. He had figured that all samples of it had been destroyed after Crane was locked away, but obviously he was wrong.<p>

When the Joker had thrown the agent at him his first instinct had been to toss him away and chase the madman, but then he'd started screaming and Bruce couldn't leave him like that. Not knowing that if the Joker had given him too much of the drug he'd die. So instead, he fought to pin the surprisingly strong young man down and injected him quickly.

Now the Joker was gone and the FBI was on their way in. So much for ending things tonight.

Still, the night was early. Bruce stood and gave the now unconscious agent one last look before rushing out of the Auditorium the same way the Joker had. Maybe if he was lucky he'd run into the murderous clown again tonight. Things could still end before they really had a chance to begin.

He heard the sound of running feet and frantic voices and a moment later he saw the lights going back on the Auditorium and knew that the agents had arrived. Good. They could sort this out. He had much bigger problems at the moment. Like exactly how he was going to deal with the Joker's threat. He needed to talk to Gordon. His chest seized up a bit and he scowled as he slipped through the back gate of the school.

He had risked so much to keep the truth hidden. He wasn't about to let the Joker win. Not this time. Not ever.

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><p>"What do you mean you don't know?" Morgan demanded, frowning.<p>

They were back in the hospital again. This time it was just Reid, however. He hadn't woken up since they'd found him unconscious on the stage of the Auditorium. All the hostages had made it out alive, thankfully. Well, all except the school's receptionist and the resource officers who'd been killed upon the Joker's entrance. Still, a very small body count for a man like the Joker.

"I'm sorry agent, but we aren't able to identify the drug that it's Agent Reid's system. We've never encountered it before,"

"How can you not have –?"

"Morgan," Hotch put a hand on Morgan's shoulder and gave him a stern look, clearly telling him to leave the matter alone. The younger man sighed and nodded and then turned back to the woman.

"How long is it gonna last?"

"As far as we can tell, he'll be fine," she assured them. "The drug is being expelled from his body rather quickly, which is good. Something is clearly countering the effects of it because I doubt it'd leave his system so quickly on its own. It should be entirely flushed out by tomorrow morning."

"Let me guess," Morgan sighed, "You want to keep him here overnight, just in case?"

She gave him a slightly amused smile and nodded, "It's for his own safety, Agent, surely you can understand that?"

"Oh, yeah, I understand it. But I'm not leaving him alone in here. Not with that psycho still running around. Hotch, I'm staying here tonight."

"Well, agent I don't think that's –" she started to protest but Morgan shot her a very serious look and shook his head and she sighed, nodding. "Alright, you can stay. But don't try to wake him. His body is still fighting off the drug and until then, just let him relax, ok?"

Morgan smiled at her, nodding, "Sure, absolutely."

"See you in the morning," Hotch told him, giving Morgan's shoulder a gentle squeeze and leaving the room with a quick glance back at his still sleeping agent. Out in the hall Prentiss, JJ, Rossi, Gordon and Forsyth were all waiting.

"So?" JJ asked anxiously, "How is he?"

"He'll be fine," Hotch promised, "They just want him to stay overnight so they can monitor him and make sure his body gets rid of the drug." He turned his eyes toward Forsyth and Gordon, frowning for a moment.

"You've seen this drug before, haven't you?" he asked.

Gordon nodded slowly, "Crane. That's the drug he was going to disperse on the entire city… If it weren't for Batman, Gotham probably would be standing anymore," he said the words with a harsh conviction and frowned at Forsyth, daring him to contradict him at that moment.

But the DA just nodded. He'd been in Gotham for that. In fact, it was the reason he left. He'd needed to get as far away as he possibly could. That had been a nightmare. A real and true nightmare and he'd frankly been terrified that Crane had managed to slip through both police and Batman's hands. It wasn't until Crane – and subsequently the Joker – was locked away in Arkham that he came back to his city.

"He's lucky. Concentrated doses of that can kill,"

Prentiss frowned, "Lucky Batman had the cure," she said. As much as she wasn't in favor of vigilantism, which was not only illegal in her eyes, but also recklessly stupid, he had saved Reid's life. And that was more important than the fact that he dressed up like a bat and pretended to be a hero, fighting bad guys at night in a mask.

"I wonder how he got it…" Rossi mused. "He'd have to have studied the drug itself to engineer an antidote. That takes time and skill."

"Which Batman clearly has," JJ pointed out. "He managed to get past us and inside the school…"

"Should have been impossible,"

"Clearly, it isn't though," Gordon said, glancing down at his phone as it beeped. Hotch's brows rose when he realized that it wasn't the same phone that he'd been using previously. He narrowed his eyes as Gordon's entire expression changed.

"I've got to get home," he said, "My wife's worried and my kids have just been through hell…" He didn't wait for a response, he just left, rushing down the halls without a glance back.

Forsyth sighed, glancing at his watch. "It's still pretty early," he said, "I'd better get going. The press will want a statement. Thank you, agents, for your help, by the way," and with that, he was gone too.

Hotch bit his lip, frowning and sighed. "Come on. It's dark and I know you're all tired. Let's get back to the hotel and rest."

As they followed him out to the parking lot and the SUVs Hotch spotted Gordon climbing into his car and he frowned. Rossi noticed the look and nodded, "Go on. We both know he isn't going home. I'll tell the team you'll be back later,"

Hotch offered the older man one of his rare, genuine smiles and thanked him before half jogging to meet Gordon at his car. Before he could pull out of the parking space, Hotch yanked the door open and slid into the passenger seat.

Gordon frowned at him, looking annoyed. "Agent Hotchner, what are you doing –"

"Who was that text from?"

"What?"

Hotch sighed, "Who texted you in the hospital? You aren't going home, don't lie to me. Who texted you?"

Gordon looked straight ahead, well aware of Hotch's probing gaze burning into him. He fidgeted with his hands on the steering wheel for a while and then sighed heavily. "You know who," he said.

Hotch sat back in the seat, "Batman,"

Gordon nodded, "Yeah,"

"And you're going to meet him now?"

This time Gordon didn't speak, he just nodded. He wasn't an idiot. He knew when he'd been caught. His only bet now was that Agent Hotchner wouldn't immediately arrest him for accessory and aiding and abetting a felon. Luckily, it seemed Agent Hotchner had other things in mind.

"I'm going with you,"

Gordon snorted, "He's not gonna like that,"

"I don't care," Hotch said sternly. "I want to know the truth and you two are going to tell me what's going on. Two of my agents have already nearly died because of the Joker, Commissioner. Don't think just because the hostage situation is over we're leaving."

Gordon sighed, biting his lip and nodded. "Fine. You won't believe the truth when you hear it. At least, you won't want to. But if you think you can help… By all means, Agent Hotchner, help."

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><p>Morgan sighed and made his way to Reid's bed as the doctor left, leaving the two of them alone. The younger man was a bit bruised and there was a bandage around his neck from where – according to the witnesses – the Joker had held a knife to his throat. But thankfully there was no lasting damage, which was a miracle in itself.<p>

He was still hearing those screams over the speakers and he could hardly believe that they'd come from his friend. He'd thought that the Joker's laugh was haunting, but he knew he'd never get those screams out of his head and if he ever got his hands on the Joker, he was going to snap his neck for making Reid scream like that.

At least now he looked relatively peaceful. Even with the bruises and the bandages, Reid still managed to look about five or six years younger whenever he slept. It made him look so innocent and young and that just made Morgan all the more angry and all the more worried.

He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from Reid's face before sighing and falling into the chair next to the bed. He doubted very seriously if he'd be getting much sleep tonight. Not while the Joker was still out there, still planning something.

He mulled over the Joker's "demands" to the Batman and his brows scrunched together. What did Batman and Gordon know about Harvey Dent that could be so important? And why would either of them lie about it? Had Batman really killed Dent? That seemed to most likely thing, but it was also what half of Gotham already believed so why would the Joker want to "reveal" something that they really already thought? Maybe Gordon had killed the man. Something told Morgan that that was highly unlikely, but maybe still possible. Whatever it was, it had Gordon on edge.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the ringing of a cell phone, but when he glanced down at his he realized it was silent. It took him a moment to remember that it must be Reid's phone, sitting on the table by the bed along with his other things. With a grunt, Morgan pushed himself out of the chair and grabbed the phone, flipping it open with his good hand.

"Hello?"

_"Spencer? It's Harley…"_

Harley? Morgan had to think a minute before he remembered who Harley was. "No, sorry, Doctor, this is Agent Morgan," he said, "Reid's… sleeping right now."

_"Sleeping?" _Harley sounded a bit hurt then, _"But I've been watching the news. Wasn't your team there at the school? The hostage situation and everything? They just reported that it was over and Spencer said he'd like to go over some things with me tonight."_

Right. Morgan sighed, their "date" that wasn't a date. He realized that the press hadn't released Reid's name to the public, or, for that matter what had exactly gone on inside the Auditorium once he was in. Partly due to the fact that they hadn't exactly told the press.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Quinzel," he apologized, "Reid got himself back in the hospital for tonight. I'll tell him to call you in the morning though."

_"Hospital?" _Harley's voice rose a few octaves. _"Spencer was the agent who went inside? Is he alright? What happened?"_

She was nearly babbling at this point, sounding just a little bit desperate. Morgan sighed, "He's fine, really. Just needs to stay for the night and he'll be alright. We aren't sure exactly what happened, but I'm sure he'll tell you tomorrow when he calls, okay?"

He could almost hear the reluctance in her tone as she sighed, _"Okay. Please tell him I called then. Good night, Agent."_

She didn't wait for his response before hanging up and Morgan shook his head, putting the cell phone back on the table and sitting down again. She certainly sounded infatuated, and they'd only just met. He wasn't entirely sure why, but something about the girl was just a little bit off. He'd deal with it later though, he was sore and tired and looking over at Reid he was extremely jealous all of a sudden. He was sleeping, and here Morgan was sitting up, aching all over, in an uncomfortable chair. Isn't that just how life works sometimes?

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><p>Hotch was surprised when Gordon pulled into the MCU. He'd known he was meeting with Batman, but at a place surrounded by cops? That seemed extremely risky for them both. Still, he followed the Commissioner into the building where they were immediately stopped by a young female detective, her brown hair swept into a pony tail.<p>

"Commissioner…" she started to say something, grimaced nervously, swallowed and took another breath. "Is it true? The Joker said he wants you to tell everyone the truth about Harvey Dent?"

Gordon bristled for a moment, seeing fear in the younger woman's eyes. He remembered a time when he would've been more sympathetic to that fear, but now all he could think was that she'd sold out Dent and Rachel and partially the blame for this mess was on her head. Of course he understood her mother was sick and she needed money, but there are better, far better ways to support a sick mother than by getting innocent lives taken.

"Yes, unfortunately, Ramirez," he told her, a bit bluntly if he were really being honest. That fear flashed in her eyes again and her hands shook a bit. Gordon's stiff gaze softened and he sighed. This was a woman he'd known since she'd joined the force. A good woman, in fact, and a friend. One mistake, even a huge one, didn't entirely erase all of that.

"We're dealing with it," he said, meeting her eyes and doing everything he could to communicate his real meaning. "I'm gonna be upstairs for a little while. Think you can give us some privacy?"

Her eyes went immediately to Hotch, but she nodded quickly. "Yes, sir," she assured him, hope sparkling in her eyes now. "I can do that."

Gordon nodded briskly and gestured for Hotch to follow him. Just as they were about to reach the stairs Ramirez called out and he turned for a moment.

"When you see him, Commissioner…" she hesitated and bit her lip, "Tell him I'm sorry. For… everything."

Gordon nodded and quickly turned away, taking the stairs two at a time with Hotch right behind him. The FBI agent was still curious to know where they were going, but from the conversation he'd just heard he gathered that at least one cop in the MCU knew about these meetings. Probably more. He couldn't honestly say that he was surprised that they knew; he'd always believed that they were working with the Batman until the events from a few months ago.

After a couple minutes of climbing the two men reached the roof and Hotch followed Gordon around to the massive flood light that sat there, still aimed at the sky. It had been smashed in and he frowned, studying it for a moment.

"What happened here?"

Gordon shifted and leaned against the edge of the building. "It had to be broken. …After the Joker and Dent and everything that happened, Gotham PD couldn't even be seen unofficially associating with the Batman,"

Hotch nodded slowly, "Where is he?"

Gordon blinked and looked around before smiling. "Behind you,"

Hotch spun around and blinked, surprised to see a man standing behind him wearing a dark suit, a mask and a cape. He'd seen strange things before, but this had to be right at the top of the list of them. Did this man think he was a hero in a comic book?

Batman's eyes were bright, especially against the dark mask covering most of his face. "Who's he?"

Hotch was surprised at the voice. Strained, low and obviously fake. Smart of him really, to make sure no one recognized his voice. Still, that meant that it was at least probably one that was recognizable to a lot of people in Gotham. He filed that away for later.

"Agent Hotchner, FBI," Gordon answered. "He insisted."

Batman was eyeing Hotch suspiciously, clearly not trusting him. Not that Hotch cared. He didn't entirely trust Batman either, but he had just saved Reid's life and Gordon clearly trusted him, so he was going to give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.

Batman's focus went back to Gordon, "You trust him?"

"We have to," Gordon said, "We don't have a lot of choice, they all heard him, over the wire. The Joker knew he was wearing it. He wanted them to hear."

"Doesn't matter,"

"It matters," Hotch said, "Because right now, you're a felon. Wanted for murder. And I'm ignoring that because I think you can help. Start helping. What was he talking about? What do you know about Harvey Dent's death that you aren't saying?"

Batman spun around with narrowed eyes, staring at the agent.

"The Mayor, the DA, they were there too," Gordon said, not taking his eyes off the Dark Knight. "It won't stay hidden for long. Either we catch the Joker before this starts, or it's all over."

"Then we catch him,"

"How are you going to do that?" Hotch demanded. He understood he wasn't trusted, but he'd be damned if he was ignored when there was an entire city at stake and Batman wanted to be holding all the pieces. One man should never have that much power.

"We don't need your help, Agent,"

Hotch scowled and Gordon realized by that look alone how the man had gotten to be the SAC of his team. That look could wither the most hardened criminals.

"One of my agents is in the hospital for the second time in two days because of this man! I am not leaving without knowing that he's behind bars! If you want to stop him as much as we do, you need to tell me what is going on. Right now."

There was a moment of silence and Gordon eyed Batman curiously, wondering what he would do. He'd been reluctant to let Harvey in, and when he had look how it had ended. Still, Agent Hotchner had a point. With the help of his team they might be able to bring the Joker down that much faster.

Batman's lips tightened but that was the only perceptible change in his appearance. "Tell him the truth," he said to Gordon, not even look at the Commissioner as he spoke. Gordon's eyes widened in surprise at those words.

"Why can't you?" Hotch demanded.

"I'm busy,"

And without another word, Batman spun around Hotch watched with wide eyes as he effortlessly jumped off the building and somehow managed to not land with a sickening splat.

Gordon's lips twitched slightly. Still the same man as ever then. Hotch turned back to face him, his dark eyes gleaming and Gordon was reminded, oddly enough, of Batman. That intense look in his eyes, that determination. It was nearly identical.

"So tell me," he said, his voice hard and unwavering as he stared Gordon down. "What's the truth?"

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><p><strong>AN: **I think I'm starting to enjoy writing cliffhangers. Well, more than I usually do, which is a lot. Sorry guys. It couldn't be helped, my muse lives to annoy.

I know there were no "real" Batman action scenes. Not the kind I love anyway. But there will be eventually, don't worry. It was extremely necessary for the Joker to get away. He's got more planned for Gotham than just scaring little children and their parents after all.

Hoped you enjoyed it! As always, please review!


	7. Clowns, Scarecrows & Psychiatrists Oh My

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **First, sorry this chapter is late. I was in Georgia for four days and didn't have my laptop, which cut into my writing time. Plus, my muse has apparently gone and fallen in love with Sherlock because she simply refuses to allow focus on much else.

Anyway, thank you so much for all of your amazing, fantastic reviews (holy crap, there are 100 of them already!) I love you guys and sincerely appreciate you all. Thank you for your support/encouragement/reviews. You rock!

Now, onto chapter 7! Hope you enjoy! I'll try to sneak some more Harley in there (and Garcia) I'm missing them lately… Especially Garcia.

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Clowns, Scarecrows and Psychiatrists, Oh My!<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_Gordon's lips twitched slightly. Still the same man as ever then. Hotch turned back to face him, his dark eyes gleaming and Gordon was reminded, oddly enough, of Batman. That intense look in his eyes, that determination. It was nearly identical._

_"So tell me," he said, his voice hard and unwavering as he stared Gordon down. "What's the truth?"_

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><p>Gordon crossed his arms and leaned back against the building, staring at Hotch intensely, taking a deep breath. "Before I tell you I want you to understand that I have no reason to lie. Harvey Dent was a friend. A good friend, and a good man. You might not want to believe what I'm about to say, but it's true,"<p>

Hotch frowned, now curious, and he watched the commissioner's face. It was oddly similar to what the Joker had told Reid. That he, and the people of Gotham, probably wouldn't want to believe the truth. What could be so bad that they would rather believe that their hero had murdered innocent people and very probably killed their White Knight?

"Almost six months ago, I told the Mayor and the press that Batman was the prime suspect in multiple homicides, one of which was Vincent Maroni, suspected head of the Falcone crime organization another happened to be a cop in my own unit, Wuertz… Plus Maroni's driver, and Harvey Dent himself…" Gordon paused there, looking up and meeting Hotch's eyes and holding his gaze.

"I lied,"

Hotch said nothing, nodding for Gordon to continue and explain. He already knew that, apparently, the story that he knew wasn't the truth. Now he was just waiting to hear the truth and Gordon seemed extremely hesitant to tell him that, even with Batman's apparent "blessing".

"Harvey Dent wasn't murdered. Batman didn't kill anyone. After Rachel Dawes was killed in the explosion, Dent was, understandably, angry. He knew that people in my unit had set it up - Wuertz and Ramirez – when the Joker blew up Gotham General, he got Harvey out safely before detonating the bomb. Dent found Wuertz and killed him, then he found Maroni, shot the driver of his car, causing it to crash and killing both of them…"

Gordon took a deep breath, closing his eyes, "He went after my family. Nearly killed my son, I… I begged him not to, but he… He wasn't himself. Batman stopped him and saved my son's life, but Dent fell. Broke his neck and crushed his ribcage when he landed. He was dead when we got down there,"

At this point, Gordon's voice was tight and he shifted, standing up straight, putting his hands on his hips. Hotch remained where he was, his gaze stern and steady as he waited for the story to finish. His expression didn't betray anything of what he was thinking, which only made it that much more difficult to tell his story. He was nearly as impossible to read as Batman.

"We couldn't allow the story to get out. If everyone knew what Dent had done, all of his work as DA, all the people he'd put behind bars, every case he'd ever handled would come under scrutiny. It would destroy all the progress that we'd made in Gotham. Progress that was only possible because Batman reminded Gotham citizens that they didn't have to let the criminals run their world. So we lied. Batman took the blame; I wasn't happy about it, but he was right. _He _could be the villain. We couldn't afford to let Dent's image as our White Knight suffer and we couldn't let the Joker get what he wanted,"

Slowly, Hotch nodded again, finally speaking, his face as still as a stone. "What about Ramirez? If she was responsible for what happened to Rachel and Dent, why didn't Dent kill her too? Why is she still on the force?"

Gordon looked down, "He didn't kill her because she got lucky," he said, "I talked to her. Dent was always flipping some damn coin and in the explosion, one side of it was burned. He used it to decide whether he killed them or not…"

"So why does she still have a job?"

"I couldn't just file a formal injunction without too many probing questions and I… I've known Anna since she was a rookie. She's a good person, Agent Hotchner. She made a mistake that cost Rachel Dawes her life, but she did it because she was desperate, threatened and backed into a corner."

Hotch's lips twitched slightly but Gordon wasn't sure if it was towards a scowl or a smile.

"Gotham PD seems to have a history of dirty cops,"

Gordon scowled then, "We've weeded out those cops, Agent, we're doing the best we can with what we have. We're not exactly being flooded with recruits; there aren't many people who want to be a cop in Gotham City,"

Hotch nodded, "I understand… And you need to understand that you can't cover this up forever,"

"I know," Gordon sighed, "But we need more time. We can't let the truth come out yet, Gotham isn't ready to accept that yet."

"And you think that's your decision to make?"

"We don't have any other choice, Agent Hotchner, what do you expect me to do? Let the Joker win?"

"The truth would be a nice start," Hotch said, his expression still as stone-like as ever. "…I need to tell my team about this."

Gordon's throat tightened. He'd been afraid of that, "Tell them, but ask them to keep it quiet, please. If there's any chance of us stopping the Joker before he tries to force us to go public, we need to take it. You understand that, don't you?"

For a moment, Hotch didn't respond at all, his dark eyes brooding. "I'll talk to them," he finally said, "I'm not guaranteeing you anything, but we need to work together on this if you want the Joker locked up again."

Gordon breathed a small sigh of relief. It was probably the most he could ask in the situation. Actually, more than he could ask. "Thank you, Agent Hotchner," he glanced down at his watch and almost grimaced.

"And now I really do need to get home to my family. I'll see you in the morning, Agent,"

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><p>The Joker entered the old cargo house laughing boisterously. Sure he'd lost the seven men who'd been with him, but finding willing henchmen wasn't difficult, especially when most people wouldn't dare say no to him. And of course, he wasn't entirely alone in the warehouse anyway and his grin widened as he spotted the man sitting at the poker table.<p>

"Ah, good 'ole Dr. _Crane!_" he giggled as he approached the other man. Crane was paler than he'd been several months ago and, if it were possible, even thinner. His stay in Arkham had been particularly unkind, due mostly to the fact that as the previous Administrator of the hospital he hadn't exactly made himself very popular among the other inmates. So, naturally, at the first chance he seized the opportunity and bolted from the prison – because really, that's what Arkham was.

He wasn't wearing his mask. Unfortunately, it had been confiscated when he'd been arrested and he hadn't been able to reclaim it. Unlike most people, Crane didn't flinch when the Joker sat down and leaned in close, his greasepaint smile smudged from the night's activities, oily hair sticking to his head and falling limply around his ears. Crane had seen worse under the effects of his own drugs – not much worse, he had to admit, but still.

Some small part of him wanted to know how that drug would effect the Joker. If he wasn't so intimidated by the man, he would probably have entertained that thought a bit more often. But Crane was nothing if not smart enough to know when to not mess with someone and the Joker was definitely someone to be left alone.

"I'm going to assume there was a reason you wanted to see me,"

The Joker's dark eyes were sparkling with delight, ignoring the man's question entirely. "You know, for a man who called himself _**Scare**__crow, _you're not very _frightening, _Doctor,"

Crane scowled and his fists clenched, but he didn't say anything, shutting his eyes for a moment and sighing. Over the last five and a half months he'd gotten to know the Joker better than most of the other inmates. Probably because the Joker was one of the few patients who came to the facility _after_ Crane's arrest and he'd never experimented on the clown. Not that he wouldn't have if he'd been able to hold the guise of legitimate psychiatrist for a while longer. He could only imagine the things he could uncover from a mind like the Joker's.

"I didn't call myself 'Scarecrow', the name was given to me by others,"

The Joker's grin slid into a smirk and he reached into a duffle bag that was sitting on the floor near the table. "You mean because of the _mask_?" he asked, his voice hitting an odd pitch as he yanked something out of the bag and tossed it dramatically at Crane.

The former doctor blinked and picked it up, staring down at the mask that had become almost a part of his identity before he'd been arrested thanks to the Batman. He ran his fingers over the rough material and frowned, turning suspicious eyes onto the Joker.

"_How _did you get this?" he demanded.

The Joker's painted lips curved upwards impossibly and he shrugged, "The same way I got _this_ little beauty," he said, dangling a small aerosol can between his purple gloved fingers and passing it to the doctor.

Crane blinked, "Is this _mine? _My drug? They kept _my _drug!"

For a moment he sounded outraged as he stared down at the drug. He'd figured some of his samples had to have survived after he'd been arrested, but to think that Arkham had kept them was insulting. They'd locked him up in his own fucking hospital because of that damned drug and they had the nerve to keep it? Hypocrites.

The Joker giggled at the furious look on Crane's face. On another man that look might have been scary, but Crane's gaunt face and drawn cheekbones only served to make it look a little childish and ridiculous, though none the less unsettling with his wide, somewhat unhinged eyes.

"Mhm, and might I say it works like a _charm, _doc…"

Crane narrowed his eyes, flipping the small container between his long fingers. "So what is it that you want?"

The Joker giggled again, smacking his lips together in a disturbing way, "I _want…_ hmm… well, for starters, I want _more._"

"More? More drugs you mean? Why?"

The Joker's eyes sparkled and he leaned in close again, pushing his painted face into Crane's personal space.

"Let me worry about that, _Jonny boy. _I've got something special in mind for this _delightful _city,"

Crane sat the can aside and leaned forward himself, staring right into the Joker's eyes and fighting not to flinch back from the insanity that he saw lurking there, the unwavering madness and glee. "And just what would I get if I did give you more drugs? Everyone knows you don't do this for the money."

The Joker laughed again and the next thing Crane knew he was crossing his eyes and looking down the barrel of a gun.

"Well…" the Joker tilted his head thoughtfully, licking his lips and smacking them back together with a sickening wet sound. "For starters you get to _not die…_"

Crane leaned back, keeping his eyes on the gun and nodding slowly. "Fair point,"

The Joker grinned and lowered the gun, keeping one leather clad finger on the trigger for good measure. "And as an added bonus I made an _interesting _little friend the other day… _You'd _probably find him fascinating. _**May**__be _I'll let you have some _fun _with him once I'm finished."

"Finished?" Crane raised a brow, though he had to admit, the prospect of a new "patient" did excite him. And was much more motivating than the gun in the Joker's hands.

"I've got my own _plans_ for him first, _Doctor,"_ his eyes sparkled and Crane had the feeling he'd really hate to be the recipient of the Joker's attention. "So _much _to do. I've got to play with Batman, bring Gotham to its knees a_nd _now I've got a new and interesting _playmate!"_

He giggled and suddenly stood from his seat, whistling to himself as he made his way over to the ratty couch in the center of the space. "So much _fun!_ Oh, and Crane, I'll probably be needing more men. Make some calls to your old associates. Some of them _must _have escaped prison!"

He flopped down on the couch, whistling and humming intermittently and Crane frowned, standing and taking the mask and drug with him, glaring at the man on the sofa.

"I'm not your lackey," he muttered.

The Joker just grinned, "Nope," he said, popping the 'p' loudly, "But you _are _nearly as interesting as me and you'll do what I want because _you _want in."

The former psychiatrist shook his head, still playing with the canister and clutching the mask between long fingers as he left. He'd been good to avoid Batman's attention so far, but he couldn't hide from the vigilante forever and the Joker was right. He wanted in. He glanced back at the couch before he shut the door behind him, spotting only the Joker's feet propped up on the arm. Sometimes he wondered at how ironic it was that the Joker would've made a very competent psychiatrist.

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><p>Morgan had just dozed off when he was jolted from sleep by the ringing of his cellphone. And this time it really was his phone. He groggily dug it out of his pocket, yawning and groaning as he saw the time. It was nearly five in the morning and Garcia was calling him.<p>

He pressed the phone to his ear and scrubbed a hand over his face, fighting back another yawn.

"Baby Girl do you have any idea what time it is?"

_"Do you have any idea what I've been going through!" _Garcia snapped, _"I've been waiting for a call, Derek, and no one called. Why hasn't anyone called? The story about the hostage situation is on national news now! Who went in! Are they alright? What happened? WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME?"_

Blinking a few times, Morgan's eyes fell on the still sleeping Reid and sighed heavily. At least he hadn't woken up. The nurse had been in a few times, checking Reid's vitals and making sure everything was alright. The drug had almost entirely flushed out of his system and his heart rate was closer to normal, though still a little elevated.

"I'm sorry, Princess, everything happened so fast and it was late, we didn't want to bother you at home –"

_"You forgot about me?"_

"No, Baby Girl, we didn't forget you. Look, everyone's fine, okay? Reid went in and he was dosed with some drug, but he's gonna be good to go in a few more hours. Don't worry about us,"

Garcia sighed heavily over the speaker, _"He's alright then? _You're _alright? Everything's fine?"_

Morgan laughed tiredly, "Yes, everything is fine, Garcia. We're all good,"

_"Okay… So are you going to be heading back once Reid's released tomorrow? Or, well, today? Since the Joker let those kids go?"_

The FBI agent bit his lip, his dark eyes on Reid. "…I don't think so," he said, "Hotch is determined to catch this guy and after what happened last night, I am too. We all are."

_"Derek! It took months for Gotham PD to catch him! And that was only with the help of Batman!"_

"I know, I know," Morgan was fighting not to nod off again, his eyes still heavy with sleep. "But we can't just leave, Baby Girl. Not now, not when the stakes are this high. The Joker nearly destroyed Gotham before they got him. They need our help."

_"Fine… But you'd better not leave me out of the loop like that again, I expect regular updates. I need to know what's going on with you guys."_

"Alright, we will, I promise. Now can I get back to sleep? I've got a feeling it's going to be a long day,"

Garcia sighed heavily, _"Okay. Have sweet dreams my Adonis. A DON'T forget to call me later,"_

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><p>Bruce grunted as he leaned back in the chair. It was nearly seven a.m. and he'd only just returned to the penthouse an hour ago, just as the sun began to dust the horizon with grey and pink. His shirt hung unbuttoned, displaying a colorful patchwork of new and old bruises. There were dark splotches across his abdomen where one of the Joker's men had hit him with their rifle.<p>

Gingerly, Bruce pressed against the bruise, biting back another grunt of pain as he did. Nothing broken, at least. And the bruise was too high up on his chest to have done any damage to his liver. Alfred had suggested he go to a doctor, a real doctor, just in case, but he couldn't risk that. He had injuries going back months that couldn't be explained away so easily and he didn't need some doctor knowing that Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, came home every morning with a new set of bruises and scars.

"Breakfast, Master Wayne?" Alfred asked quietly, avoiding looking at the ugly bruises on the younger man's torso.

Bruce shut his eyes, shaking his head, "No, I'm good, Alfred. I just… need some time to think."

Alfred nodded quietly, not saying any of the things he wished he could say. None of the things he wanted to say. "I take it things didn't go well last night?"

"No, it went… relatively good," Bruce sighed heavily and opened his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "They got his men and the kids made it out safe, but the Joker got away."

Alfred nodded. He'd heard as much on the news the night before. Although, there was a conspicuous lack of the mention of the Batman. Apparently, Gordon and the Mayor didn't want it out there that Batman was involved in any way. Which, Alfred had to admit, was probably a good call on their part. Gotham was in enough turmoil as it was, they didn't need the conflict of their former hero helping to save the day.

"Do you remember that drug, Alfred? The drug Crane weaponized? The Joker used it last night on an FBI agent,"

Alfred frowned, "I thought the Commissioner had all the samples destroyed after they found Dr. Crane,"

Bruce shook his head, "So did I, but the Joker got his hands on it somehow. He got out of Arkham with help too. Someone at that hospital is helping him," he frowned, standing from his chair, "If I could find out who it is…"

He trailed off and winced again as he began buttoning his shirt. Alfred watched in silence for a moment.

"Perhaps Mr. Fox could be of some help with that, Master Wayne,"

Bruce smiled ruefully, "Maybe he can," he nodded, "I'll talk to him." He grabbed his coat and pulled it on, expertly controlling his features so that the pain didn't show on his face as he stretched the sore muscles to their breaking point.

"Going out, Master Wayne?"

"Unfortunately, I've got another board meeting," Bruce sighed and ran his hand through his hair tiredly again. It was difficult work, keeping up two lives. But as long as Batman was needed, he'd do it. "I might be in late again, Alfred, don't worry about lunch."

Alfred watched the younger man go and closed his eyes. Sometimes he wondered if, all those years ago, he'd known what Bruce would one day become, if he still would have promised Bruce's father that he'd do everything in his power to protect his only son. But he knew he would have. Bruce was like his own son and there was nothing he wouldn't do for him, even if that included breaking several federal laws and risking going to prison himself.

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><p>Reid was gathering his things, preparing to leave the hospital for the second time. He couldn't say he would miss this place and he was certainly glad to be leaving. His muscles were still a little sore and his nerves seemed to be permanently jarred, but he was fine all things considered.<p>

"Coming Pretty Boy?" Morgan popped his head back in the room, a smile on his face despite the worry in his eyes. "Hotch wants to talk to us. Gordon told him something last night, apparently it's important."

The younger agent nodded absently, picking up his cellphone, "Yeah, I'll be there. Give me a second, I'm gonna call Harley back,"

Morgan grinned then, "Got to reschedule that date of yours huh?"

"It's not a date!" Reid protested, frowning and blushing slightly, "We're just talking about the case, Morgan, she could help us, you know. She's talked with the Joker."

"So have we and we aren't getting anywhere," Morgan pointed out.

Reid folded his arms across his chest and frowned at him, "She's a psychiatrist, Derek. She's had sessions with him. She could help us find him and right now she knows more about him than we do."

Morgan made a face, "Fine, fine. Just hurry up, Hotch isn't gonna wait long, ok?"

Reid bit his lip and flipped his phone open, finding Harley's number there, staring at him. He felt a little nervous, despite the fact that this really wasn't a date. He always had trouble talking to women. He took a deep breath and hit the send button.

Harley answered on the first ring, _"Spencer? Are you alright?"_

He laughed in spite of himself, "I'm fine, yeah. Sorry about last night,"

_"Oh, don't worry, Spencer, I understand. That was very brave, what you did, going in that school last night,"_

Reid was blushing again and he still wasn't entirely sure why that was, "Not according to my team…" he sighed, "Um, I was just calling to see if you, uh, still wanted to go over those notes? Maybe… maybe we could meet this afternoon?"

_"That's perfect!" _Harley said excitedly, _"I'm kind of out a job at the moment, since the hospital was blown up. We could meet for lunch, I know a nice Chinese place, say… 1:30?"_

Reid nodded, "Sure, yeah, sounds great!"

_"Great!" _Harley sounded practically giddy, _"I'll meet you at your hotel. If that's okay, I mean,"_

"No, that's fine," Reid said, "But, um, I'll probably be at the MCU most of the day. We can meet at the restaurant instead, I mean, unless you'd rather just –"

_"Oh, no, that's perfect. I'll text you the address. See you then, Spencer!"_

Reid smiled, "Alright, see you there, Harley. And, um, thank you, again."

_"Ok! Bye!"_

Reid stared down at the phone for a moment before taking another breath and slipping it into his pocket. He grabbed his satchel and slipped it over his shoulder, checking his revolver at his hip and then hurrying out of the room, hoping that this would be the last time that he had to stay the night in Gotham General. The BAU was still paying for his hotel room, he'd appreciate actually being able to sleep there for once.

He nearly ran right into Prentiss and Morgan coming down the hall.

"There you are!" Prentiss took hold of his arm and started tugging him forward. "Hotch wants to talk to us. Gordon told him what happened with Harvey Dent. Come on!"

Reid blinked and glanced over at Morgan, "Gordon told Hotch the truth? What else happened while I was out?"

Morgan chuckled and shook his head, "Nothing much, Kid. Harley called, Gordon and Hotch talked and… oh yeah, Garcia called five times. She wants you to call her the second you get time."

Reid winced and nodded, thinking he'd almost rather be back in that Auditorium with the Joker than face a frantic and worried Penelope Garcia. Compared to her, the Joker was almost mundane.

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><p><strong>AN: **I know there isn't much of the rest of the team, sorry guys, I wanted to get this chapter posted so you wouldn't have to wait any longer. Besides, you already know exactly what Hotch is going to tell them.

Also, I'm annoyed at Dr. Jonathan Crane. I really can't tell if he's in character or not.

And I have a question: I've watched The Dark Knight several times, but I cannot for the life of me remember exactly how many people Dent killed. I believe Gordon said 5 had died (but I think he was including Dent in that number), and that two of them were cops. I'll watch it again to double check, but I don't remember Dent killing two cops, jus Wuertz. Ramirez lived. He killed Maroni and his driver too, but does anyone remember who else? Or if there _was_ anyone else?

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Sorry for the wait! Please review!


	8. Differential Diagnosis

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **I know this is beyond late. Forgive me! Finals were last week, I (finally) started the sequel for "Satan's Hollow" and for some reason decided to make it my new mission to watch every episode of "House" I haven't seen yet. (Not even halfway done yet, but yeah…) And a tiny case of writer's block; also I live in Florida, it's 90 degrees and my air conditioner broke. I was extremely close to killing myself or some innocent children…

Unforgiveable, but I'm trying. I really hate making you guys wait any length of time! Thank you all so much for your reviews and support. You're amazing ;)

Now, back to the story!

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Differential Diagnosis<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_"There you are!" Prentiss took hold of his arm and started tugging him forward. "Hotch wants to talk to us. Gordon told him what happened with Harvey Dent. Come on!"_

_Reid blinked and glanced over at Morgan, "Gordon told Hotch the truth? What else happened while I was out?"_

_Morgan chuckled and shook his head, "Nothing much, Kid. Harley called, Gordon and Hotch talked and… oh yeah, Garcia called five times. She wants you to call her the second you get time."_

_Reid winced and nodded, thinking he'd almost rather be back in that Auditorium with the Joker than face a frantic and worried Penelope Garcia. Compared to her, the Joker was almost mundane._

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><p>"<em><strong>Bor<strong>__-ing!_" the Joker called out in a singsong voice as he stared at the TV, one gloved hand resting against his painted cheek. He was sitting at the poker table in the warehouse alone, a small television perched precariously on top of several cardboard boxes. The color went in and out and every now and then lines of static floated across the screen but the sound was fine. He was watching a young female GCN newscaster relay the story of the hostage situation from the previous night. They'd been replaying the story all morning.

It was the same details over and over again. The Joker and seven armed men had walked into the school, gunning down two school resource officers and the sixty-five year old receptionist before storming into the Auditorium and taking the children and faculty hostage. After several hours of useless negotiation, a lone FBI agent went inside, getting the children released. An hour and a half later, the FBI agents and Gotham police went in, apprehended the seven men, but the Joker escaped. The Gotham police were working closely with the FBI on finding the Joker, blah, blah, blah.

He was getting bored listening to the same information over and over again. And where was the Batman? No mention of him whatsoever. He'd expected Gordon and his cronies to hide the conditions of his demands, but that the FBI was going along with it _and _hide the presence of Batman was annoying. He was tired of boring and he still had a good long stretch of time between now and his twenty-four hour deadline which he already knew was going to be ignored.

"I need to make this more… _interesting,_" he muttered, getting up from the table and grabbing his discarded coat, leather clad fingers shuffling through pockets inexplicably filled with sharp, dangerous objects and explosives. After a moment, he tugged out a beaten up cellphone and grinned that wide Cheshire cat grin of his. It was just as creepy as usual, but some of the effect was lost when he was the only one to be disturbed by it.

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><p>"So," Prentiss frowned, leaning over the table in the small conference room. "You've known for… five and a half months that Batman was <em>not <em>a murderer, Harvey Dent's death was actually the result of a fall caused when Batman saved your son's life and Harvey Dent killed an unspecific number of people as far as you're aware? And you decided that it was a good idea to hide that?"

Gordon pinched the bridge between his eyes and nose, stifling an annoyed groan. He'd know that Hotch would tell his team. He supposed he should be happy he hadn't told the Mayor or the DA or the press, but right now he didn't have time to deal with their ethics and their justice and their law. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was illegal, in fact. He hadn't become a cop, or Commissioner, by being a complete idiot. They had far bigger things to worry about than the fact that he'd allowed a known vigilante to escape the scene of a crime, covered up murderers and lied to… everyone. Among other things.

The Joker was still out there. His threat was still on the table and they had less than twenty-four hours to find him before he did whatever it was he was planning on doing.

"Look, I get it. You don't think I did the right thing, you think I should've told the truth. Telling the truth is what the Joker wanted. He wanted Dent's reputation destroyed; he wanted to ruin everything he had worked so hard to accomplish. We couldn't let that happen,"

"So you let your vigilante take the fall for it because… what? He was already a wanted criminal?" Morgan frowned.

"No," Gordon looked tired as he pulled out a seat at the table and sank into it. "Batman took the blame because he could, because he wouldn't let years of work go to waste and he couldn't let the Joker win. Not then and not now. He isn't going to want Gotham to know the truth. It's too soon."

"Things don't always work according to our schedule," Rossi said. "The Joker is planning something if you don't make the announcement soon."

"I can't," Gordon insisted, "We need to find the Joker. Besides, do you really think he'll keep his word? He's the Joker, Agent; he thrives on the chaos and misery of other people. We can't let him have what he wants. It's… it's like giving in to a terrorist's demands."

Hotch sighed, nodding, "For now, that's how we look at this. But we can't keep this covered up forever. It has to come out, Commissioner. Eventually,"

He met Gordon's eyes and the Police Commissioner nodded, looking haggard and depressed. He probably hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night. "If we want to find the Joker and figure out what he's planning, we need to think like him."

"Be a lot easier if we knew more about him," JJ said, frowning, "We've got a list of bombings and robberies and killing sprees. Nothing personal, not even a real name."

"But actions speak louder than words," Reid said, still staring down at the file, "He uses bombs. Usually bombers are cowards, but he's the opposite. He just likes the explosion. He likes… blowing things up."

Prentiss nodded, "He gets off on the chaos and fear,"

"He likes knives," Morgan said, "Anyone he's killed personally is almost always killed with a knife and it's always messy."

"…His scars," Reid was frowning again, hazel eyes distant, "He keeps telling different stories about how he got the scars. Sometimes it was an abusive father, sometimes angry loan sharks, muggers… He's given a different cause every single time."

"Yeah, which reduces the likelihood of any of them being right," Morgan said.

"I know, but think about how we lie. We keep lies as close to the truth as we can, it makes it easier to hide the lie,"

"Reid, he wasn't attacked more than once. None of these stories have enough in common to give us the real cause behind his scars," Rossi said.

"No, but they could all be true enough to a point. Maybe he was married. Maybe his wife was hurt for some reason. Maybe he had an abusive father and maybe he and his wife were attacked in Gotham one night."

Gordon shook his head, "That gets us nowhere, Kid," he said, "Gotham's a cesspool for criminals and dirty cops. Especially a couple of years ago before Batman showed up. There are thousands of people who were attacked in the street by rapists, muggers, addicts… Hundreds men who's wives were hurt or worse. There's no way to know which one could've been the Joker."

Reid nodded, "I know. But we need to stop looking at this like he's 'the Joker'. He had a past. He was someone else once. That someone else is still a part of who he is. When he got those scars, that was likely his stressor. It was the catalyst that sent him over the edge. Whoever he was before is important. We look at him the same way we look at any other UnSub. When did he first show up?"

"When Batman showed up," Gordon said, frowning skeptically. "I got called to a homicide, three people brutally killed. There was a Joker card on the table… After that things got worse. He robbed banks, he killed people, he didn't blow anything up for a long time, actually. Not until after he'd started screwing with Maroni and the other Mob guys."

Hotch frowned, "That first homicide… who were the victims?"

"Uh…" Gordon flipped through the file, frowning. "They were suspected of being lower level mob guys for the Falcone family. We were close to an arrest. _I_ was, I mean. Back then there weren't many legitimate cops on the force. We had evidence that they'd broken into a chemical plant and stole some experimental chemicals and equipment… I, uh, after what happened with Crane, I figured they'd been sent to get whatever it was he needed to make that drug of his."

JJ frowned, "Why mob guys? Who else did he kill?"

Gordon blinked, "A… bunch of suspected and known criminals at first. He killed a lot of his own men too before starting to blow buildings up. Then he made Batman his target…"

"He's fascinated by Batman because he's different. He doesn't behave the way classic vigilantes are expected. He stands out…" Reid murmured, "But why the criminals? Why kill them? Why was he so determined to destroy the mob families?"

"_He's _not a vigilante," Gordon said, shaking his head.

"No," Hotch nodded, "Not even close. But he's something we haven't seen before. Can you get us the records of the first three victims? If we find out why he killed them, we could find out why he's doing everything…"

"And that helps us?"

"It'll tell us how to stop him and how to find him," Prentiss said.

Gordon nodded, standing, "I'll pull the files," he said.

Reid cleared his throat as he gathered the notes and files he'd been looking at and stuffed them into his satchel, "Hotch, would it be okay if I met someone? It shouldn't take long, she's one of the Joker's doctors at Arkham, she agreed to talk to me –"

"Go," Hotch said, jerking in his head toward the door. There was a faint twinkle in his eye and just the beginnings of a smile on his face. Morgan had already told them about Dr. Quinzel and they all agreed it was a date, no matter what Reid said.

"I'll be back in an hour!" Reid assured them before hurrying out the door.

Rossi chuckled, "If that kid doesn't come back here with a starry look in his eyes I think we can all safely assume he never will."

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><p>Bruce struggled to keep himself awake during the board meeting. The first few meetings he'd ever gone to, he'd managed to both stay alert and to actually make real input. After that, however, things went downhill. Being Batman left him precious few hours for sleep and the board meetings were almost always in the morning or early afternoon when he'd much rather be sleeping. So, occasionally, he dozed off.<p>

Mr. Fox always covered for him, reassuring everyone that he was fine; he'd just had a particularly long night before. Honestly, Bruce was amazed they still accepted that answer, whether or not they actually bought it.

This meeting he'd managed to not fall asleep, but it was a struggle to keep his eyes open. His eyelids appeared to be made of cement and every time he blinked, they refused to open quite fast enough for his liking. As soon as he'd talked to Lucius he was going to find a bed or a couch and he was going to crash. He missed sleep…

The meeting was about a new product and whether or not it was ready for public release yet. Bruce only half followed it, his sleep deprived mind more interesting in rest than the company. The hour and a half dragged on as he fought with his body to stay awake. Finally, the board members left and Mr. Fox approached the drooping Bruce Wayne.

"Another long night, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce grunted and stood up, stretching his stiff muscles as he ran a hand tiredly over his face and rubbed his eyes. "Very," he said. He blinked a few times, rapidly, trying to wake himself up. He took a step toward the other man and made sure there was no one else in the room.

"I need you to do something for me," he said slowly, "Someone in the hospital helped the Joker get out. I need to know who."

Lucius nodded slowly, "You want me to get the records?"

"Can you?"

The older man smiled, "I'll see what I can do, Mr. Wayne," he assured him, as always. "And, you might want to get some sleep. The board members are starting to talk."

Bruce smiled, "They always talk. I'll be fine,"

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><p>Crane glanced at his watch, foot tapping restlessly. He'd been waiting outside the restaurant for an hour. He'd made a few calls the previous night and met with men who'd worked with Falcone and his men in the past. Most of them were skeptical about working with the Joker, but while Crane might not be scary, he was very good at debating.<p>

He were in a small side street in a car, far more exposed than Crane wanted to be. Batman might only come out at night, but the Gotham PD was everywhere, looking for the escaped convicts. The Joker might have been priority, but they'd jump at the chance to have him locked up again too.

"Getting _impatient, _Doc?" the Joker's oddly pitched voice nearly made him jump as he slipped into the car. Crane jerked his head around, wondering where the hell the madman had come from. He hadn't seen him anywhere and he'd been looking.

He blinked when he look to the Joker. He wasn't wearing his makeup, making him nearly unrecognizable if it weren't for the nasty scars on his face. Crane had lived with that face for months and he was surprised that his makeup really could make him look even more surreally disturbing. At least he had the good sense to take the face paint off for this. Whatever this was. Crane was already fidgety enough not knowing what was going on.

"What are we doing here?"

"Give it a _minute!_" the Joker sighed heavily, "You'll see."

Crane grumbled under his breath, "Do you even _have _a plan? Or is this just one colossal joke to you?"

The Joker met Crane's eye and made a face, "Of course I don't have a _plan_? Do I look like I have a plan?"

Crane's hand went to the door handle, "I'm leaving," he said, about to yank the door open and leave. The Joker's hand shot out and grabbed his bony wrist in a surprising tight grip.

"Ah, ah, ah, you _stay_!" he snapped, "If you want a _plan _then you're going to have to get your own… Now, _look!"_

Crane leaned forward and squinted his eyes as a young blond woman entered the restaurant across from them. He recognized her, but it took him a moment to put a name to the face. "Dr. Quinzel?"

The Joker's lips twisted his ugly scars at an odd angle, "_Harley,_" he corrected him.

Crane turned to look at the Joker, his dark eyes fixed on the young blond. Despite his denial of a plan, Crane swore he could see wheels turning inside the man's head. He might not have a real plan, per se, but he was definitely scheming whether he wanted to admit it or not.

"Why did I need to see that?" he demanded.

The Joker sighed, "Do me a favor, Doc, stay _quiet _and watch!"

Crane sighed and crossed his arms, leaning back. He hated to admit that he was curious about whatever it was the Joker wanted him to see.

A few minutes later, the Joker leaned forward again, an eager light in his eyes. One that would have frightened anyone other than Crane. "There he _is!_"

"He who?"

His smile was both sinister and oddly ecstatic at the same time. It was an unsettling combination. "Dr. Spencer Reid. I call him _Spencey…_" he flashed his yellow teeth in that same frightening smile, "He's _fascinating._"

Crane spotted the thin young man, hurrying into the restaurant and through the glass front could see him being led to the same table as Dr. Quinzel. He frowned, "What is he –"

"He's having _lunch_ with Harley," the Joker said. "Get ready."

"For what?"

"You'll _see!"_

"If you don't tell me, I'm not going to do it. I've got other things I could be doing."

"Selling your tainted d_rugs?_" the Joker raised a brow, glancing at Crane. The former psychiatrist didn't respond, meeting the Joker's eye and waiting for an explanation. Finally, the Joker sighed and reached into his coat pocket, producing what appeared to be an oxygen mask, the cord tangling back down into some pocket in the coat.

"Put on you _mask, _Doc, we're going to have some fun!"

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><p><strong>AN: **I know this chapter is a little shorter than usual. I'm sorry, I just hated making you guys wait for so long so I cut it a little bit. Still, it's a decent length I think.

Anyway, I always kind of imagine the Joker's coat is like the Doctor's (from Doctor Who): bigger on the inside. Which then leads me to think the Joker is clearly the Master.

Hope you guys enjoyed it! I'm a little iffy about it myself. Forgive my lateness and please review!


	9. Masks and the Men Behind Them

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **Again with the lateness. I'm sorry! I really hate taking upwards of two weeks to post a new chapter, but even without school (thank HEAVEN that's finally over for the next few months), I've still got work and family stuff and I'm working on two other stories and planning numerous others so… Still busy, just slightly less busy.

Anyway, thank you all so much for the reviews last chapter! You guys are amazing and I'm glad you're all interested in the story so far! This has, amazingly, become longer (or as long as) most of my multi-chapter fics with nearly half the chapters! And I can't help but be just a teeny bit proud of it, so thank you all for your reviews/alerts/favorites!

Now, back to the story since that's what you're really here for!

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Masks and the Men Behind Them<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_"Selling your tainted __**drugs**__?" the Joker raised a brow, glancing at Crane. The former psychiatrist didn't respond, meeting the Joker's eye and waiting for an explanation. Finally, the Joker sighed and reached into his coat pocket, producing what appeared to be an oxygen mask, the cord tangling back down into some pocket in the coat._

_"Put on you __**mask**__, Doc, we're going to have some fun!"_

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><p>The restaurant was full of chatter when Reid arrived and took the seat across from Harley. She was smiling brightly at him as they chatted, waiting for their orders to arrive. He didn't know why he felt like blushing whenever she looked at him. She had pretty blue eyes; they reminded him a bit of JJ, honestly.<p>

"So, what made you want to be an FBI agent?" she asked, taking a sip from her drink, lashes fluttering.

"I… wanted to help people," he said. He'd never really thought too much about why he'd joined the FBI. It had just seemed like the natural choice for him. "The BAU just seemed like the place for me to do that. Why did you become a psychiatrist?"

Harley leaned back in her seat, thoughtfully playing with her napkin, "Not really sure," she said slowly, "I've always been fascinated by the way people think, you know? What makes them tick? And there's nothing more interesting than people who don't think the same way as everyone else. Some of the patients are Arkham are the most interesting people I've ever met."

"Like the Joker?"

"Mhm," she nodded, a smile on her face, "I've never met anyone so… unique. When I heard about him, on the news, I thought he'd be terrifying, you know? Some monster, for sure."

"You're not scared of him?" Reid asked curiously, leaning forward.

"No!" Harley objected the idea immediately, "I think… I think he's just misunderstood. All of his other doctors said he was crazy, just insane. But I don't think they ever really _listened _to what he has to say, you know? He's really not a monster at all, he's doing what he thinks is the right thing, fighting corruption and evil and injustice. He just isn't going about it right, that's all."

Reid nodded slowly, "You really think that?" he asked, "What did he tell you?"

"Our first private session was a few weeks ago," Harley explained, "I was really nervous, I mean, this was the Joker and he's supposed to be this horrible, evil psycho. I could hardly hold my notebook straight when I went in! And those scars of his are terrifying…"

She trailed off for a moment and Reid watched her face, the way her eyes lit up and her lips tilted into that odd little smile. He remembered the way she'd looked when he and Morgan had interrupted her session with the Joker before the bombs went off in the hospital and found himself wondering if maybe she'd fallen for the Joker's lies without meaning to. She was young and naïve and obviously fascinated by the man…

"But then we started talking and he told me about his family," she continued, "How his father had never loved him and his mom wasn't around and all I could see was this scared little boy who just wanted someone to love him and care about him."

"Did he say anything else? What his father did for a living? Who his dad was? Did he tell you his name?"

Harley sighed and shook her head sadly, "No, he never would tell me his name or anything like that. But the things he said about his father… it just broke my heart, Spencer! I know he did some bad things, but everyone just seems to think he's this evil, horrible monster when he isn't! He's just trying to get someone's attention, trying to prove himself. Sure he isn't doing it right, but…" she sighed, "Can you really blame him for wanting someone to care?"

Reid wanted to tell Harley that he absolutely could blame the Joker. A bad childhood didn't exactly erase everything that the man had done to the innocent people of Gotham. But some part of him wanted to agree with her. He'd seen the same thing hundreds of times before with UnSubs from abusive and neglectful families and there was always that part of him that wanted to absolve them of their guilt. It wasn't entirely their fault that they'd been treated so terribly and he could understand why some of them turned into the killers that they did.

"I think…" he frowned, "I think we can't blame him for what he had no control over," he finally answered, "But that doesn't mean that what he did was okay. He obviously knows it's wrong, he knows exactly what he's doing. I seriously doubt he's even slightly insane. He can reason and argue and think for himself."

Harley smiled, looking down at her glass, "I think you're right about that," she said.

"About him not being crazy?"

She nodded, "I've talked to him dozens of times and… he's just not like the other inmates. He's articulate and smart and logical. He doesn't belong in Arkham at all."

"Why didn't you mention that to anyone before?" Reid frowned, "His doctors? The Administrator?"

She sighed, "Because he isn't the one saying he's crazy. Everyone else is! All the doctors say he's insane and everyone thinks it. But I don't see it, not when he talks to me. He's completely sane."

Reid frowned, "…Maybe… for everyone else it's easier to say he's insane than accept that a perfect reasonable human being could do the things he did."

She laughed and leaned forward, "You know, Spencer, you are the first person to understand that! It helps them sleep better at night if the Joker's some lunatic, but if he's just as sane as we are then anyone is capable of doing what he did!"

Reid wasn't sure why he found himself agreeing with her – at least in part. It was one of the things that made his job so difficult at time, knowing that most of the UnSubs he came across had little more than emotional problems. Most of them were perfectly sane or at least sane enough that they knew the different in right and wrong. It at the very least always made him question his idea of evil and good and what it really meant to be human.

He started to say something when the doors of the restaurant were thrown open and two men burst in. One he recognized immediately despite the lack of face paint and the oxygen mask that was obscuring his features. The other was wear what looked like a burlap sack over his face, distorted eye- and mouth-holes giving the mask a disturbingly frightening look.

His hand instinctively went for his gun as people around him began to panic and scream and try to run. The Joker shot one man directly in the head and he fell dead where he'd stood. Before Reid's fingers could pry his own gun away from his hip he felt a surprisingly strong hand tugging him down and found himself underneath the table a moment later, Harley pressing a napkin to his face.

He reached up to yank the napkin away, frowning, "Harley, what are you -?"

"Shh!" she hissed, "That's Dr. Crane with him! Didn't you see those canisters in their hands? They're going to gas the place! If we stay hidden and don't breath it in, we'll be fine."

Reid frowned and bit his lip. He had no desire to be dosed with any more drugs, but there were more gun shots being fired and people were screaming even louder now as the gas was dispensed and the Joker was taunting them, apparently looking for someone, he never said the name. Or at least, Reid hadn't caught the name. He slipped his gun from the holster at his hip and held the napkin to his face, hoping it would be enough to protect him from the drug as he leaned forward.

"Spencer, don't!" Harley hissed, "It's too dangerous!"

"I can't just do nothing, I've got to try help," Reid insisted, not turning around. His muscles felt tight and he wasn't sure if he actually could move at all as he slid forward. He was about to push himself completely out from beneath the table when he felt something pinch the side of his neck and he spun around to look at Harley, except Harley wasn't there and his heart nearly fell out of his throat when he found himself staring into the Joker's unpainted, grinning face.

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><p>A little more than two dozen people were inside the small, cramped restaurant. All screaming and panicking. And that was before he'd tossed the first open canister of the wonderful, terror inducing drug. One man had made a drive for the door only to be stopped by a bullet from his gun, two more were soon victims of the same gun, only lucky – or unlucky – enough to not be killed immediately.<p>

It brought a giggle up through his throat just refused to stop. Crane had thrown the second canister a moment later, into the kitchen. Now the staff were screaming and clawing at themselves, trying to escape the gas. Stupid people.

The mask was uncomfortable on his face, but he didn't really care at the moment. This was definitely _not _boring. Far from it, watching people running and screaming in terror, no real plan in mind, despite what Crane thought. He couldn't imagine why everyone assumed he had some grand scheme in mind. He really didn't, he just made it up as he went along. More interesting that way, definitely more fun.

His dark eyes scanned the tiny space, looking for the familiar blond head of Dr. Quinzel and the mop of messy brown hair that was Dr. Reid. He started humming a tune in his head when he spotted the table where they'd been seated, no one sitting there now, but he could see Harley's bag sticking out from beneath the table cloth.

He tugged Crane's sleeve and dragged him along to the table with him, yanking the cloth up and dragging the young, blond woman out from under the table quickly.

"Helloooo, _Harley_!" he hissed joyously in her ear before shoving her into Crane's confused hands. The "Scarecrow" masked man held her there while he knelt down and grinned brightly as Spencer spun around. Amusing, the way his eyes nearly bugged right out of his head when he saw him. He wished he could have such an effect on everyone he met. There were always those annoying few who were good at hiding their fear.

Spencer looked almost comical, his eyes round with shock, holding a napkin against his face to block the gas. Smart, really. He certainly didn't want to feel the effects of the drug twice in less than twenty-four hours.

"Spencey!" he was practically giddy with the excitement. Sure he'd technically broken his promise. At least one person was dead. But could they really expect him to sit idle for an entire day? "You look so much _better!_ Hate to interrupt your d_ate!_ But I need to have a _word _with Harley dearest…"

Spencer's fingers were wrapped around his gun, but the Joker just watched in amusement as he attempted and failed to get the gun to lift. His fingers weren't working. Excellent! He giggled as Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head and he started to slump forward. He caught the young man and eased his head down, yanking another oxygen mask out of his coat and shoving it onto Spencer's face.

"Just _breathe_, Spencey," he told him, still grinning, "I'll be back to see you _later._"

Spencer was gasping, trying to cling to consciousness. It was almost admirable, really. And certainly amusing. But soon his eyes fell closed and the Joker stood, leaving the mask on his face and brushing his suit off, surveying his work.

People were screaming and crying and the restaurant was in utter chaos. Beautiful. His work here was done.

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><p>"Took some digging," Gordon said as he enters the room again, brandishing three files. "They were buried in the old filing room. No one's digitized them yet." He sat down across from the FBI agent and frowned when he realized that one of them was missing.<p>

"Where's Dr. Reid?"

"He had a lunch date," Prentiss said, a faint twinkle in her eyes. "One of the Joker's doctors at Arkham."

Gordon didn't say anything but he found it just a bit unprofessional that they'd allow a "lunch date" in the middle of his entire world crashing and burning thanks to a madman with face paint. And bombs, of course.

"What did you find?" Agent Hotchner picked up one of the files and opened it, frowning.

"I haven't looked through them all yet," Gordon said, "But like I told you, we think they were working for Falcone before he was sent to Arkham. We tried to talk to Falcone several times since then; he's not talking. You're friend's lucky Batman has that antidote, that drug of Crane's has some nasty side-effects."

"Anything else connecting them?" Rossi took another of the files, "Besides the break in at the chemical plant?"

"A murder," JJ said, reading over Hotch's shoulders. "The three of them were prime suspects in the murder of Jeanie Napier. She was Twenty-eight years old. Home invasion… All three of them were acquitted."

Gordon frowned, "I think I remember that… She was pregnant. God, it was brutal. Loeb was on the case, but they had Falcone's lawyers behind them. We never could figure out _why _they did it, they never admitted to anything. It was all over the news for two weeks."

"That's it though," Prentiss said, "That's the only other time those three men show up together. The chemical plant and that murder. It has to mean something to him. Something important, right?"

"I doubt it's the chemical plant," Morgan said, "Has to be the murder. Who was she? What was important about her?"

"She was pregnant, was she married? Did she have any other kids? Brothers? Sisters?" JJ asked, frowning as she skimmed over the file, trying to ignore the more gruesome details of the murder. She'd been raped and beaten and eviscerated. It was bad enough seeing the crime scene photos, she didn't need to read about it too.

"Only child," Prentiss answered, "Parents have been dead for ten years. She was killed two years ago."

"She was married," Hotch said, "Husband was Jack Napier. He worked for the same chemical plant that the men broke into last year."

"But he was laid off," Gordon said, frowning, "The same week she was killed. I've heard that name before…" He stood and left the room in a flurry, snapping the file shut. The BAU frowned as the commissioner left, wondering where he was off to when Morgan suddenly gasped and nearly dropped the file he'd taken from Rossi.

"What?" JJ frowned, glancing over his shoulder as he passed her a photograph that had been in the file, a picture of Jeanie and her husband, Jack, smiling and happy like all the other depressing pictures that they saw on a nearly daily basis of victims before they'd been attacked.

"Her husband," Morgan said, "That's him… that's the Joker…"

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><p>Alfred knocked gently on the bedroom door and entered after a moment's pause, smiling faintly as he spotted the young Wayne heir tangled in the bedclothes. He'd gone straight his bedroom the moment he returned home. He'd meant to get some work done, call Lucius again and see how he was doing on the Arkham employee search. He'd planned on taking a short nap, instead he'd been almost clinically dead since his head had hit the pillow.<p>

Alfred hadn't disturbed him, allowing the younger man some much needed rest. But he'd been keeping an eye on the news and he knew he'd have to wake the young man now, though he was loathe to do so when he was sleeping so peacefully for once.

"Master Wayne," he tugged the curtains back, allowing the late-afternoon light in. Bruce grunted and twitched under the blankets, muttering something about sleep. "I'm afraid it's time to get up, Master Wayne. There's been an incident downtown."

"Ughmphft…" Bruce grunted into the pillow and rolled over, squinting his eyes against the bright light. "What happened?"

Alfred hesitated, balancing on the edge of knowing Bruce would want to know and wanting to let him have just a few more hours of peace and rest. In the end though, he really didn't have any other option. He had to tell Bruce because Bruce had this illogical sense of responsibility and duty.

"There was an attack. The Joker and Dr. Crane… Downtown in a Chinese restaurant."

Bruce sat up, scrubbing at his eyes, suddenly feeling much more awake despite how heavy his eyelids and limbs still felt. "Have the police caught him? What happened?"

"They haven't said anything for sure. At least two people have died," Alfred spoke carefully, "He's gone now. They're trying to sort it out as best they can. They think he used the drug, that fear-inducing drug Ra's Al Ghul attempted to disperse on the city last year."

"Damn it," Bruce tossed the covers back, standing and leaving his bed a mess and he grabbed the discarded clothes from his floor. "Call Mr. Fox, tell him I'll meet him in Archives in two hours." He fumbled through the mess on his bedside table and grabbed his phone, "I've got to contact Gordon. Definitely be late tonight, no dinner. Sorry Alfred."

The butler just smiled fondly, yet sadly, as the young man hurried out the room, shirt only half buttoned, untucked, jacket hanging over one elbow. He could hear Bruce's feat clattering down the stairs and he sighed, turning to straighten up the mess Bruce had made of his bed. Alfred wasn't exactly a devout Christian, but he found himself praying quietly as he went about his work. Whatever happened, Bruce would certainly need all the help he could get.

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><p><strong>AN: **So… still a bit shorter than the usual chapters. And I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with this chapter, but meh.

The team made some progress – didn't expect them to find out all that so quickly. But it happened. Not gonna help them *too* much I suppose. But maybe enough to understand him a bit better. Also, do not remember if Jack's wife name was Jeanie or not. If I'm wrong, please let me know. Didn't have much time to do fact checking tonight.

Hope you enjoyed! Please review!


	10. Humanity in the Madman

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **Sorry, once again, for the lateness. If it makes any difference at all, it's because I updated "Beauty, the Beast" twice and finally finished it and then updated "Demons Run". So only two stories actually going now. Maybe that'll help make updates faster.

Thanks so much to all the readers/reviewers for taking the time to read and review this and for being patient with me. Please forgive my lateness. I really hate making you wait, but I hit a little bit of a block on this chapter.

So, let's get back to the story, shall we?

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Humanity in the Madman<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_The butler just smiled fondly, yet sadly, as the young man hurried out the room, shirt only half buttoned, untucked, jacket hanging over one elbow. He could hear Bruce's feat clattering down the stairs and he sighed, turning to straighten up the mess Bruce had made of his bed. Alfred wasn't exactly a devout Christian, but he found himself praying quietly as he went about his work. Whatever happened, Bruce would certainly need all the help he could get._

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><p>Gordon came back into the conference room several minutes later holding a thin blue file in his hands – not a police file. "Here it is," he said, "I had to pull a few strings to get it from the hospital… What are you all looking at?" he frowned when he realized that the agents in the room were all being quiet, looking at a photograph that had been tucked away in one of the files he'd brought in earlier.<p>

"Jack Napier," Prentiss said, passing him the photo, "With his wife, Jeanie…"

Gordon frowned and took the picture, nearly dropping the blue folder in his hands when he saw the smiling man staring up at him with dark, happy eyes. Even without the grotesque scars and intense, horrifying spark in his eyes, Gordon recognized the Joker in the man's features. The smile might have been sincere, his hair shorter and clean and devoid of that tinge of green dye, but it was him. A happier, much more… human version of him, but him all the same.

"How… This is…" he couldn't get the words to form properly.

"It's him," he finally said, shaking his head down at the photo. "It's really him…" How could that even be possible? All this time and he'd had the Joker's identity hidden away in a two year old murder case file. Down in the basement of the archives this entire time and he'd never even known it was there.

"It does explain why he went after the mob guys," Rossi said, "If those men were tied to Falcone, he wouldn't be content just killing them. The city was corrupt, Falcone was running it all so he had to fix it. To take away their power."

"Falcone's been in Arkham since he was arrested," Gordon said, his voice faint, "…He's never gone after the guy."

"Crane did that for him," JJ said, "The drug he used on Falcone did enough permanent damage without the Joker's intervention. So he went after Maroni and all the other Mob bosses…"

Gordon sank down in his seat, shaking his head. His mind was spinning. The Joker had a name, a real name. He'd never have found it without these agents, but somehow he wished he hadn't. That face, that smiling, perfectly normal face in the picture just did not fit with the image he had in his mind of the monster that had nearly destroyed his city. Having his name, his backstory… it gave everything he did more meaning, more purpose. Made it make just a little bit more sense.

"So he really was fighting corruption and injustice…" his voice was still soft, echoing quietly. "But what about all the other people he attacked? Judge Surillo, Commissioner Loeb… Batman!"

"That we don't know," Hotch admitted, "But it's a start. We're having our technical analyst back in Quantico do some digging. Whatever there is to find on Jack, she'll find it. We still don't know how he got those scars though… Garcia said there isn't any hospital record of him with wounds similar."

"No," Gordon shook his head, "I'd have remembered that… But I do have this," he passed the blue file to Hotch, pressing his lips together, "It's not much, but I remembered hearing the name and I called Gotham General, they faxed over what they still had in their system. We're lucky there was anything, considering the damage the Joker's bomb did."

Hotch skimmed the thin file with dark, narrowed eyes. "This was two years ago," he said, frowning, "Right after his wife was killed…"

"Yeah, we, uh, he was nearly dead when he was found. It was all over the news for a while, biggest break we'd ever had against any of Falcone's men before…"

"What is it?" Prentiss leaned forward, glancing down at the file. It wasn't the most detailed file she'd ever seen before, there were glaring omissions, like when he'd been admitted and released. They didn't even have record of his home address or phone number at the time. But it was clear enough.

"He was beat up pretty bad, but the doctors couldn't figure out what had almost killed him. He was screaming for a week," Gordon sighed, shaking his head, "Nearly clawed his own eyes out more than once and almost killed himself… They figured he was drugged but they'd never seen a drug like that before. We had enough circumstantial evidence to link some of Falcone's top men to the attack, but until he was ready to testify we had him under protection.

"He left the hospital after two weeks, said he'd testify, but then he vanished…."

Gordon sighed, "The case fell apart and over the next few months more men turned up with similar symptoms, only they either died or never recovered. They're still Arkham patients now."

Hotch pressed his lips together, "And then a year ago Dr. Crane flooded the Narrows with a weaponized fear-drug that nearly wiped out the entire population and you realized that those men had just been the beginnings of a long string of experiments."

The Commissioner nodded, "If I was right… If I _am _right, that explains why the Joker… why he's not sane. That drug, I've seen it do horrible things to people's minds. Some people recover, some don't. Like I said last night, your agent was lucky Batman has the antidote otherwise he'd be insane or dead."

"Commissioner!" Detective Ramirez suddenly burst into the room, startling the agents as she stared, wide-eyed at Gordon. "There's been another attack. Two blocks away; Zhang's restaurant. The Joker and Crane, sir!"

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><p>The first thing Reid became aware of was the noise. It was everywhere, people talking and yelling, sirens blaring, radios going, reporters calling out questions, cameras flashing. God, the noise was everywhere and his head was killing him. He groaned and grimaced, fumbling to sit up. He wasn't on the floor of the restaurant any longer and as he cracked his eyes open he realized he was on a gurney, outside the restaurant and there were several ambulances standing by, taking the most injured and hurt first.<p>

Blinking a few times, he searched the throng of cops and paramedics that surrounded him for the team and nearly fell off the gurney when a hand came down on his should, "Reid, you're awake!"

He twisted and sighed in relief when he spotted Morgan standing next to him. "Yeah, yeah… I… What happened?"

Morgan pressed his lips together, frowning down at the younger agent, "You don't remember?"

Reid rubbed his temples, scrunching his eyes shut for a moment and trying to gather all the information he could remember from before he'd blacked out. "I remember some… Harley and I were talking, then… then the Joker and… Dr. Crane came into the restaurant… Then people were screaming and he shot someone… I went for my gun but Harley yanked me under the table… Then everyone was screaming and I…" he frowned, opening his eyes, "Where's Harley?"

Morgan hesitated for a moment, "We don't know, Kid. She wasn't in the restaurant when we got here. We were hoping you might have some answers… You got lucky this time, you know. None of the drug made it into your system."

Reid nodded, "The Joker… put an oxygen mask on me. I think he injected me with something though, I couldn't move or think…"

He nodded, "The paramedics think it was some kind of sedative, but they aren't sure. Looks like you get to make another trip to the hospital –"

"No," Reid shook his head and swung his legs over the side of the gurney. "I'm fine, Morgan. No cuts or bruises or anything. Just a headache. We need to focus on finding Harley and the Joker. He's working with Dr. Crane now –"

"Slow down, Pretty Boy," Morgan caught the younger agent before he could fall flat on his face as his wobbly legs nearly buckled underneath him. "We're working on it, alright. You should get checked out before you do anything."

Reid shook his head stubbornly, "I'm fine, Derek. Look, we can't afford to waste time. The twenty-four hour deadline is up at two a.m. The Joker took Harley for something and we need to find them before he does whatever it is he's planning next."

Morgan sighed and let Reid go as he shook his grip loose and continued walking forward, spotting Hotch and the Commissioner arguing with the Mayor. Morgan caught up to him easily, "Wait, Reid, would you just take things slow. You're gonna hurt yourself. We need to talk first,"

"Talk about what?" Reid frowned, finally stopping a few yards away from Hotch and Gordon and crossing his arms over his chest.

"We know who he is," Morgan said, "We found the Joker's real name."

"How?"

"I'll explain on the way," Morgan said, tugging Reid along with him in the opposite direction he'd been going in, "If you're gonna insist on not going to the hospital then you're going to look at what we have. You understand him better than the rest of us do. Maybe you'll see something we didn't."

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><p>The Archives were practically empty when Bruce entered, save for Lucius Fox, standing beside a computer, a perplexed frown on his face.<p>

"I was expecting more time to look into the matter, Mr. Wayne," he said, a faint smile tugging his lips as the young man gave him an apologetic look and shook his head.

"I wish I had more time, Lucius, but the Joker's moving faster than I thought. I need a name. Anything you can give me would be helpful,"

Mr. Fox sighed, "I'm afraid there isn't much to give you," he said, "Ever since Dr. Crane's little experiments were made public, Arkham's been monitored more closely by the government and they're extremely careful about who they hire. None of the current employees have history of mental illness, substance abuse or any criminal charges against them. They're all clean."

Bruce frowned, "Someone helped the Joker escape. There's no way he planted those bombs without help from the inside. Who was his doctor?"

Lucius glanced back at the computer for a moment, "A Dr. Tatum McGuire. And before you ask, he's been with Arkham for two and a half years, not a single complaint against him. To all appearances, he's an upstanding, law-abiding citizen. Rare in this city, if you ask me."

Bruce stared at the glowing computer screen. He knew there was someone in Arkham who'd helped the Joker; the question was who and why? If none of the doctors or employees were former criminals, then what did he have to go on?

"Who was hired in the last six months?" he asked, "Maybe it's someone recent. I remember hearing that the investigation after Crane's arrest led to several other doctors being fired and losing their licenses."

Lucius nodded, "You'd be right there, Mr. Wayne," he said, studying the information he had, "In the last six months Arkham has hired a new janitorial staff, a new receptionist and three new doctors are interning."

Bruce nodded, eyes distant, deep in thought. "Start with the new doctors. Find out everything you can about them," If the Joker had taken someone under his wing while in Arkham, the best bet was a doctor and if not an experienced doctor, then surely a newer, more naïve doctor would be the safest next choice.

"Let me know when you find anything," he said, turning to leave.

"There's one more thing, Mr. Wayne," Lucius called out before Bruce could leave, "You were wondering how the Joker got his hands on Crane's drug… Arkham had samples on file, but they, along with Crane's mask, have yet to be recovered from the rubble."

Bruce pressed his lips together. At least that explained that mystery, and proved beyond a doubt that he was right about an inside man. Now he just needed to find out who.

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><p>"This is ridiculous!" Forsyth snapped, glowering at Gordon, "He clearly wants you to make some sort of announcement, Gordon! Now what is it?"<p>

Gordon pressed his lips together, doing his best not to glare back at the other man. It was difficult to remain professional when Forsyth was in his face, spittle flying from his mouth as he yelled at him as if he was his boss and had the right to do so.

"The Joker gave us a twenty-four hour deadline," he said, his voice strained as he fought to keep it under control. They'd started the argument outside of the restaurant and it had carried back to City Hall and all the way into Mayor Garcia's office. The Mayor was giving him the same angry, suspicious looks that Forsyth was; only Agent Hotchner, who had remained with the three of them while his team went back to the police station, was quiet.

"Gordon, whatever happened, whatever he wants, it can't be worth these peoples' lives today," the Mayor said, "Four people dead, more in critical condition. They'll be lucky if they recover –"

"I have the antidote," Gordon said, pressing his lips together and grimacing as all three of them turned incredulous eyes on him.

"How?" Forsyth demanded, "Even Arkham hasn't engineered a drug to flush that one of the system fast enough to stop permanent damage."

"But Batman has," Hotch said quietly, "It's the only thing that kept Agent Reid alive last night…" he was looking at Gordon oddly and for a moment Gordon was certain that the FBI agent was going to tell them about his secret alliance with the Dark Knight, but he continued.

"You found the package on your desk when you went to your office before we followed the paramedics, didn't you?"

Gordon nodded dumbly, relief flooding him. That hadn't exactly been what had happened – he'd received an anonymous text from Batman telling him that the antidote was waiting for him. But it was close enough to the truth anyhow. Agent Hotchner was either partly psychic or extremely good at his job.

"So… Batman gave you the antidote?" Garcia frowned, some of the fire leaving his eyes as he studied the Commissioner. Gordon knew he didn't trust him; Garcia had been suspicious that he knew more than he was saying ever since Dent had died. But politics was more important to him than having the truth. Looking good in the eyes of the public mattered more and if they could wrap it all up, Harvey Dent a hero, the GCPD victims of both a dangerous vigilante and a madman, then why not?

Now, Gordon sensed the tables had turned. The Joker was loose, his threats were very real and Gordon had the feeling Mayor Garcia's popularity in the polls wasn't exactly up to a number he was comfortable with.

"How can you trust that it'll work?" Forsyth demanded, "The Batman is responsible for at least five deaths; probably more. He's a known murderer and criminal."

"But he used the antidote before," Hotch reminded him, "On Agent Reid. He's still alive because of it. I think it's safe enough to trust him. The Batman's a vigilante, not a serial killer."

Forsyth's lips were tight and he nodded curtly, "I suppose you've already given the antidote to Gotham General?" he asked, raising a brow at Gordon.

Gordon nodded curtly, "They should have started administering doses to the surviving victims,"

The Mayor sighed heavily and sank down behind his desk, looking between Forsyth and Gordon and Hotchner. His dark eyes were heavy and tired and he was clearly not getting enough sleep at the moment.

"Gordon, we can't ignore the Joker's demands. He's working with Crane now, he's got access to that drug and, no offense, but the FBI hasn't exactly made much progress –"

"We ID'd him!" Hotch snapped, brows furrowing over his eyes as he stared at the Mayor, "Something your people haven't been able to do until now."

Forsyth shook his head, "So we know his name," he muttered, "That doesn't give us any kind of edge on finding him, Hotchner. You still don't even know how he got those scars, and like you said, that's the most important part of that mystery."

"We have his name and we have why he started killing," Hotch said, that stern glare that reminded Gordon on Batman on his face. "That's enough to give us an edge. We will find him, Forsyth; you've got to give us more time."

"More time?" the Mayor laughed an anxious sort of breathy laugh. "Agent Hotchner it's almost four in the afternoon now! We only have until two a.m. and the Joker's already proven that his deadline isn't exactly trustworthy."

"Then how can you trust that us complying with his demands will stop him from doing whatever it is he's planning?" Gordon demanded, "We have to find him, not give in to him! Until we find this madman, he's running rampant in Gotham and he'll do whatever he wants. If this afternoon proved anything to you, I hope that's it."

Forsyth turned to glare at Gordon again, hands on his hips. "Then tell us what he's talking about, Gordon," he snapped, "What's so important about Dent's death?"

Hotch watched as Gordon's jaw tightened and a muscle in his jaw twitched slightly. There was a moment when he thought that the Commissioner was considering telling the truth. Then he let his hands drop to his side and leaned close to Forsyth, eyes locked with the other man's.

"I. Don't. Know," he snapped, spinning around and storming out of the office. Hotch was right behind him, shaking his head as the door shut behind them and they made their way to the exit.

"You know you can't keep it from them forever," Hotch said, "At the rate the Joker's going, you'll have to tell them sooner rather than later."

Gordon sighed heavily, a faraway, anxious look in his eyes as he pulled the car door open and slid behind the wheel.

"I know,"

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><p><em>"So, you will be unhappy to know that there isn't much information on Mr. Jack Napier, aka, creepy psychopathic murderer. He was born in 1979<em>_, parents were Janice and Jonathan Napier… Looks like that story about the abusive father wasn't totally made up… Both Jack and Janice were in the out of the hospital for concussions, bruised ribs… Never anything life threatening, apparently. His father worked at the same chemical plant that Jack later worked for. Mother died of cancer when he was thirteen, father died eight years ago in a mugging."_

Reid frowned, looking over the medical file and chewing his lower lip. He was having a difficult time focusing on the words in front of him, his mind continuing to wander back to Harley and where she was right now. He'd tried calling her, but got no answer and the restaurant had been cleared out hours ago – still no sign of her.

They had cops scouring the city for the Joker and Crane and Harley as well, but they'd decided not to release the Joker's identity to the public yet. It wouldn't be helpful and they didn't want to let him know that they'd figured it out yet. At the moment, that was really the only thing they had to use against the Joker and they wanted more definitive information before they did anything with it.

"There's nothing else though? No mention of an attack that would leave those scars? What about after he was laid off? Did he get another job?"

Garcia sighed, _"Sorry, Junior G-Man, that's about it. No new job, no mention of any police reports or hospital records involving a Glasgow smile…" _they could almost hear the technical analyst shiver over the phone as she said that.

Prentiss pursed her lips, "He had to get work somewhere," she said, "Are you sure, Garcia? No new address, nothing?"

_"Completely off the grid," _Garcia said, _"No record of any credit transactions, nothing. His bank account still had two hundred forty-six dollars and seventeen cents. Wasn't touched after his vanished from the hospital."_

"Okay, you're a married man, starting a family… Lower middle-class in a crime riddled city. You lose your job, your wife dies and then you're attacked in the streets," Rossi frowned, "So what's next?"

"Suicide," JJ said, shaking her head over the file, "His life went to Hell. He lost everything in less than a week and then somehow lost even more."

"But then he disappears from the records. No job, no income tax… What was he doing?" Morgan frowned, "There are at least ten months between his vanishing and the murder of the Mob men. Whatever happened in those ten months is more important than anything. That's what turned him into the Joker."

Reid frowned, "His wife's murder was just the first blow in a long string of bad luck. Something else happened that sent him completely over the edge," he had to blink to keep his eyes open. The sedative that had knocked him out was still being flushed out of his body, making his focus issues even more difficult than they'd already been.

"And we'll figure out what that is," Hotch said as he and Gordon entered the room again, "Reid I want you to go back to the hotel and rest."

"What! But Hotch –"

"It wasn't a question, Reid. You almost ended up in the hospital again today. That's a lot even for you. You need to rest. Go back to the hotel and take a few hours. We'll call you if there's anything new about Harley,"

He added the last part mostly to appease the younger agent. Reid sighed heavily and nodded, taking his files and notes and stuffing them into his satchel, "Fine," he said, face contorted into an odd mixture of anger and anxiousness as he made his way to the door.

"Oh, Garcia," he paused, turning around and facing the speaker that was sitting on the table.

_"Yeah?"_

"Look into Dr. Jonathan Crane too. If he's working with the Joker it can't hurt to know as much about him as possible,"

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><p>The sun was just hovering over the horizon by the time Reid got back to the hotel room. The hours were ticking away and they were still so far away from finding the Joker or figuring out what it was that he was planning. He knew there was a plan, there had to be a plan, but with the Joker the plan was never obvious.<p>

He flipped the light on and nearly jumped as he spotted a dark figure standing in the far corner of the room, near the window. His hand went for his gun, but once his heart had restarted he recognized the black cowl and slowly lowered the weapon.

"Batman?"

The vigilante didn't move from where he stood and Reid tilted his head slightly, wondering how he'd managed to get in through that window; the room was six stories up and there wasn't a fire escape there.

"Agent Reid?"

The voice was rough and obviously disguised and Reid frowned, edging around the room, keeping his revolver in his hand just in case. He was more supportive of the Batman than the rest of the team, but that didn't mean he was going to trust a man who broke into his hotel room and acted like it was nothing.

"How did you get in here?" he demanded.

"Dr. Quinzel, where is she?" the Batman ignored the question and Reid frowned, fingers flexing around the butt of his gun. Harley? What the hell did he need to know about Harley for?

"We don't know," he wasn't sure why he answered, but he answered anyway. "The Joker took her when they attacked the restaurant this afternoon."

"Damn," Batman swore and turned, stepping onto the ledge of the window.

"Wait!" Reid called after him and the dark clad man paused, turning just slightly and cocking his head to the side.

"Why do you want to know?"

He was still for another moment and Reid expected him to answer, but the he turned away again and was out the window before Reid could blink. The agent rushed to stop him, but didn't even have enough time to grab the edge of the billowing cape as the Dark Knight disappeared into the darkness. Reid pressed his lips together and leaned over edge of the window, trying to see the shadow within the shadow. After a minute, he leaned back in and shut the window, making sure it was bolted before falling back on the bed and pulling out his phone, dialing Harley's number once last time before sleep overcame him.

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><p>Bruce swore in his head as he perched on top of the roof of an apartment building, eyes scanning the darkness. Dr. Quinzel had been number one of his list of possible Arkham insiders… If the Joker <em>had <em>taken her he wasn't sure what that meant. Probably a staged kidnapping, to cover her guilt. But he remembered the Joker's habit of killing his own men when they were no longer useful. What if that was what had happened to her?

At any rate, if she was with the Joker he wouldn't be getting any information out of her. He'd have to find some other way of getting a fix on the clown.

He leapt from the roof as police search lights came into his line of sight and he made his way quickly to the dark recesses of the alley, ducking behind a dumpster until they passed. It was the third time in less than two hours that he'd nearly been spotted by the GCPD. Nearly every cop on the force was out tonight. Two insane madmen on the loose and working together was apparently an even bigger motivator than a hostage situation at an elementary school.

He'd gotten word from Gordon that they had a name on the Joker… Jack Napier.

He left a message with Lucius to dig farther into Napier's background. Whatever he could dig up might be useful. It was the most promising lead they'd ever had on the Joker. There had to be some reason he kept his identity so well hidden from everyone. Somewhere in his past, there had to be something that explained all this.

The cops passed and he eased out of the alley and down the dark street once again. There were still other escapees out there that were far easier to catch. At any rate it was something to keep him occupied while he waited for more information.

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><p>Reid had only just fallen into that really deep sleep when his cellphone began ringing loudly, piercing him awake. He fumbled around for it, hoping it was Hotch or Morgan with more news about Harley, but glancing at the caller ID he realized it wasn't either one of them. It was Harley herself.<p>

"Harley! Where are you? Are you alright? What hap-"

His anxious babble was cut off, but it wasn't Harley's voice on the other end of the phone.

_"Hellooo, Spencey!" _

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he heard that voice and the delighted giggle that followed it, crackling over the speaker.

_"Don't worry about Harley Dear, she's fine… A little _tied-up _at the moment…"_

"Joker," Reid whispered, his voice hardly registering to his own ears. "What do you want?"

There was a pause and Reid could almost see the disturbing grin on the clown's face as he answered, his voice lilting and hitting an odd pitch as he broke off into that earsplitting laugh that sent shivers down his spine.

_"What do I want? Hmm, Well, Spencey… I think we should play a little __**game**__!"_

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><p><strong>AN: **So, back up to the usual chapter lengths again :D Much pleased about that. Not enough Joker for my taste, but I had to save him for the very end. Build the suspense and all that.

Obviously, I'm taking my own little liberties with the Joker's origin. It's heavily borrowed from the comics, but I've put my own spin on things as you can see. And they still don't know the cause behind his scars.

Also, Steven Moffat ruined this chapter a bit for me talking about the aerosol drug they used in "Hounds of Baskerville" and saying that they'd done research that proved that most aerosol drugs exit the body on their own in about 24-48 hours with no lasting effects as long as exposure is stopped. *grumbles* While I don't know if this is true, I am not going to argue with Moffat, I'm just going to pretend that Crane's drug is special and clearly has lasting effects on the mind if it doesn't kill and no antidote is given. So there.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please review!


	11. Fireworks and Kerosene

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **So I've decided you guys should probably just come to expect chapters roughly every 10-14 days. (You probably already have given my perpetual lateness). I wish I could get the chapters out faster, but apparently my muse suffers from chronic laziness and boredom, not to mention the writer's block I had on this chapter. And let's not forget Lola's severe Sherlock addiction.

If anyone's interested, I've just posted the sequel to "Beauty, the Beast" (my Doctor Who/Criminal Minds fic), called "Armageddon" if you're interested.

You'll never believe what finally kicked Lola's lazy ass into gear for this chapter though… I was watching Doctor/Master fanvids on YouTube and stumbled onto a Bruce Wayne/Tony Stark video. Lola suddenly woke up for some reason.

Anyway, **THANK YOU ALL** for your reviews/alerts/favorite adds! Means a lot to me! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Thanks so much!

Please review!

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Fireworks and Kerosene<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_"Joker," Reid whispered, his voice hardly registering to his own ears. "What do you want?"_

_There was a pause and Reid could almost see the disturbing grin on the clown's face as he answered, his voice lilting and hitting an odd pitch as he broke off into that earsplitting laugh that sent shivers down his spine._

_"What do I want? Hmm, Well, Spencey… I think we should play a little __**game**__!"_

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><p>It was nearly midnight and Bruce had still caught no sign of the Joker or Crane. The streets were far from quiet, of course; bar fights, muggings, bold drug dealers and drunken idiots still made their way out of doors and yelled, fought, screeched and generally just made asses of themselves. But the Clown Prince of Crime was suspiciously, frighteningly silent. There had to be a reason.<p>

His "deadline" was up in two hours, giving Bruce very little time to find the madman and put a stop to whatever it was he was planning on unleashing on Gotham this time. The Joker hadn't really given him much to go on, unfortunately, and he was left patrolling the Narrows, listening to the police radio transmissions and hoping to get lucky. He thought about contacting Gordon and making a stop by the MCU, but with so many cops out he didn't want to take that kind of risk.

The vigilante was totally at a loss, but at least there was something to keep him from beating himself up: the two remaining Arkham escapees.

He was standing on the shaky roof of an old warehouse that was used by drug dealers – it used to be one of the Falcone meeting places until Batman had come along. They'd quickly stopped using the place and not only that, but meeting at night in general. It was just less riskier to meet in broad daylight. Better to be caught by a cop than the Batman, after all.

He spotted the small, nervous looking man throwing glances over his shoulder as he stumbled through the dark, empty alley bellow. He recognized the face of one the escapees and readied himself for a fight. Shouldn't be too difficult: the man was thin and very obviously drunk or high.

Stepping to the edge of the roof, Bruce look down and fixed his gaze on the prisoner, who had stopped just outside of the warehouse door, muttering to himself. Bruce couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but it looked like he was arguing with himself. Gaging the distance between the roof and the ground, Bruce stepped off the edge, almost casually, allowing himself to drop down with only the faintest of whispers bellying his presence in the area.

The man hadn't heard him, apparently, because he didn't turn around, still fidgeting and muttering at the door. The Dark Knight moved silently, hoping that this would be a quick and easy take-down. The man continued muttering, Bruce only able to pick up every other word. He was mumbling something about monsters and demons and brain worms. Clearly, this man hadn't gotten into Arkham by accident.

Less than a foot away from the man, Bruce lifted his arm, preparing for what was probably the most simple fight of his career as a vigilante, when he heard the faintest whisper of noise behind him and spun around just in time to see three men, much larger than the tiny man he'd been about to knock out, hefting large rifles. Two of their faces were vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't put names to them and didn't really care to try when a hail of bullets were let loose in the alley.

He barely managed to jump up, latching onto an old, rusty fire escape. A few of the bullets grazed the cape that hung down, but none did any actual damage to him. The Arkham escapee wasn't so lucky.

At Bruce's sudden movement, he spun around and only had enough time to cease his muttering before he was knocked to the ground with the force of the blasts, his blood staining the dirty pavement beneath him. Batman had no time to worry about him, swinging up and scaling up the roof, dodging the bullets as they flew at him. Where were the GCPD _now_? He wondered sarcastically, grunting as several bullets slammed into his chest, nearly knocking him off the edge.

The armor protected him, but he would be lucky if he didn't have any broke ribs. A nasty bruise would certainly be there in the morning.

He pivoted on the spot, searching the darkness for the men, the gunfire had stopped suddenly and the men were nowhere to be seen. He frowned, realizing that something was going on. He jumped down from the roof again, landing on the balls of his feet, putting a hand to his chest. Every breath hurt like he had white hot pokers stuck in his chest. Definitely broken a couple of ribs, then. He ignored the pain; he had more important things to worry about at the moment.

The alley was empty except for the body, steaming slightly in the cool night air. He sidestepped the body and moved to the door he'd been loitering outside of, pushing it open with surprising ease. He'd expected to encounter at least some resistance.

He moved silently into the pitch darkness of the warehouse, blue eyes scanning the cavernous space, ear straining for any sound. It was eerily silent, but he could hear just the tiniest traces of muffled movement. It was somewhere ahead of him, but he couldn't see anything yet.

He'd take maybe eight steps when he heard the buzzing and his almost permanent frown turned into a scowl. The distinctly electrical buzzing grew louder and fluorescent lights zapped on and he winced, his eyes taking a second to adjust to the change. He spotted the three men from the alley, only one of them wielding a rifle now. And standing near the back, tall and thin and wearing that mask, stood Dr. Jonathan Crane in all his insane glory.

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><p>Gordon looked at his watch, swearing, "We've got less than two hours," he said, "This is getting us nowhere. We need to find him before he decides to blow up another hospital or a nursing home or –"<p>

"Commissioner," Hotch cut the man off, shaking his head, "We're doing everything we can… Even knowing his name, we still don't have much information. If you want to do something to stop this maybe it's time to tell Gotham the truth."

Gordon paled at that thought, refusing to consider it. Not yet. The odds were against him, but he couldn't give in to the madman's demands. Not when there was so much at stake – not just his career and reputation, but the fate of Gotham itself. He dreaded to think of all the hard work that would be undone, all the criminals that could potentially be turned back out into their streets. Gotham still wasn't the most ideal place to live, but it was improving and none of that would have been possible without Harvey Dent and Batman.

"They aren't ready for the truth," he said, shaking his head. "We're just not looking in the right places."

Prentiss sighed, "You've got your men going over the entire city; they haven't found him yet because he doesn't want to be found. Living in anonymity all that time, I think he knows more about being invisible in Gotham than you do."

"Commissioner," Detective Ramirez appeared in the door again, though thankfully not anywhere near as frantic as she had been that afternoon when the Joker and Crane had attacked Zhang's. "Forsyth is waiting in your office."

Gordon groaned, shaking his head, "Agent Hotchner," he glanced at the Unit Chief, "Care to join us."

Hotch put down the file he'd been holding, nodding curtly and moving to follow Gordon, "Keep digging," he said, glancing back at the team, "There's got to be something we're missing. Something he did or said."

As they left the room fell silent and JJ's eyes flickered to the open file, "We need to have that press conference," she said quietly, "There's no way we'll be able to find him in the next two hours."

"We've got to try," Prentiss said, "Gordon's obviously not going to do it and Hotch is backing him up on this."

"I don't like this," Rossi said, "We're helping these people cover up a crime. This should have come out when Dent died."

"It's not like we haven't covered up worse," Morgan said, "Think about all the times we've been required to lie and hide things from the public for their safety and peace of mind. This isn't that different if you think about it."

"We're allowing a murderer to be remembered as a hero," Prentiss said, "While a vigilante with some twisted hero complex takes the fall for his crimes. Tell me you don't think that's just a little messed up."

JJ frowned, "Hold on," she sat forward, "Didn't Gordon say the Joker and Batman showed up at about the same time?"

"Yeah," Rossi frowned, "The first Joker killing was only a few months after Batman's first appearance – just a couple weeks after Dr. Crane went on the run."

"So," JJ said, "Since we aren't having any luck finding the Joker through his past, let's try a backdoor. Batman. He didn't start killing until Batman showed up. He had plenty of reason to want to kill the people who ruined his life, but he didn't until this vigilante showed up."

"Right," Prentiss nodded, looking thoughtful, "So we profile the Batman, we figure out the Joker."

Rossi seemed a little skeptical, but nodded, "Worth a shot. I'll see what files they have on him…"

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><p>"Game?" Reid's voice barely shook now as he slowly regained his composure. Now was definitely not the time to appear afraid. He wasn't about to give the Joker what he wanted. "What kind of game?"<p>

The Joker giggled, "_Oh _yes_, Spencey. I think we should play a game. I get __**bored **__so ease-_ill_-ly and all this waiting around… It could drive a man __**mad!**__" _Another fit of laughter crackled through the phone speakers and Reid pushed himself off the bed, fumbling around for his gun. His long fingers wrapped around the butt, feeling a bit more at ease with the weapon in his hand, even though he couldn't exactly use it.

"I thought you were already playing a game," Reid said, relieved that his voice was so clear and level. "Isn't that what this is? The hostage situation? The attack at the restaurant? Kidnapping Dr. Quinzel?"

There was a pause and the Joker was strangely silent, "_Of course _that's _one game, Spencey. I want to play __**another **__game. Just you and __**moi.**__"_

Reid bit his lip, eyes darting to the dark window, worry nagging at his gut. There had to be something else he could do, "What game?" he asked, "I can't play if I don't know the rules…"

He could almost see the Joker's smile as he laughed, delighted that the agent was playing along with him so far. He hadn't had this much fun since _Batman _had interrogated him all those months ago. He was looking forward to this game more than any he was playing currently.

_"Ooh, the _rules!_" _he sounded practically giddy, "_Well, Spencey, you should know how I feel about rules. The only proper way to live life is without __**rules**__. HOWEVER, there is one teeny, tiny little… con-dish-on."_

Reid was at the window now, peering down at the city below. It was after midnight, the sky dark, the streets mostly empty. No sign of the team and no word from anyone. He wondered if they were making any progress. He knew they wouldn't be back to the hotel until after two. They were going to wait out the deadline.

"What condition?" he asked slowly, still unsure if he wanted to play this game. He was very aware of the fact that lives may hang in the balance, but the Joker hadn't even told him what the game was yet. Knowing the Joker, it would be anything but pleasant.

"_So you'll play! Won-der-ful, Spencey! This is going to be such _fun!"

Reid grit his teeth and moved away from the window, sitting back down on the bed. "What condition? What's the game?"

_"Patience, Spencey!" _the Joker cautioned him, _"Let's take this __**one **__little step at a __**time**__!" _He giggled again and then, after a long minute of catching his breath he started speaking again, his voice pitched up another level. Reid could almost hear his next fit, hanging on to the edges of every other word.

_"The _condition _is simple. You can't tell your _team_ about the game. No phone calls. Nothing and I'll be __**watching.**__ The _game_ is pretty simple too… All you gotta do is find Harley dearest before I can have some more fun with bombs… If you do, Gotham gets to keep one more of their _precious_ buildings."_

Reid swallowed roughly, reminding himself to stay calm. The Joker was looking for a reaction and he couldn't give him that. He had to stay cool. "How am I supposed to find her if my team still hasn't even found you? There are less than two hours left until your deadline,"

The Joker chuckled, his laugh sounding deep and ominous, _"That's not _my _problem, Spencey. Like I said, there was only _one _condition. I hear you're pretty smart. I wanna see how __**smart **__you are. Better get moving!"_

Reid started to ask another question, but the line went dead and he frowned, blinking down at his phone for a long minute. He hit redial, but was immediately put through to voicemail. He took a deep breath, hands shaking slightly as he glanced back to the window, the Joker's words echoing in his head. Did he want to play this game? Not particularly. But if it could potentially stop the Joker from blowing up another building, he had to try.

He didn't know if the Joker really was watching him, or even how he could be, but he decided that for now it wasn't worth it. He could call the team if he actually managed to find anything. He grabbed his gun, cellphone and jacket, about to raced out the door.

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><p>"Two hours," Forsyth said the second Gordon and Hotch entered the office. "Less than that even! The Joker'll make good on his threat, Gordon and you know it! Whatever it is that he wants, you need to give it to him before we have another attack to deal with. People are scared out of their minds!"<p>

Gordon frowned, waiting for the DA to finish his angry rant before shaking his head and stepping around the other man to take a seat at his desk, "I told you I don't know what he's talking about. And even if I did, now is not the time to give in to him. Don't you see what he's doing? He's trying to give us a reason to be distracted from looking for him. He's not going to stop whatever he's planning just because we make some press conference!"

Forsyth was still fuming, eyes dark and clouded, "You know what he's talking about, Gordon, don't try to play me. I'm not an idiot. You're hiding something."

Gordon fixed the other man with a level glare, "And what if I am?" he demanded.

Forsyth stuttered, blinking furiously, "Your career is already in the toilet, Commissioner, don't make things worse. Whatever this is, you need to come out with it. If the Joker has something on you –"

"He doesn't have anything on me," Gordon spat, "If he did he'd have already used it and you know it. This is none of your concern."

"None of my – Damn it, Gordon! There are lives at stake here! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Gordon was standing from his seat now, eyes blazing, "Don't you talk to me about lives at stake! Unlike you, I was here the last time, Forsyth! I saw what this madman can do, I know what he's going to do and I don't intend to stand aside and let him."

Hotch was standing at the back of the room, arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head at the two men. "You two need to calm down," he said, his voice surprising them. "Arguing about this isn't going to find him. If you want to save lives, Forsyth, let us do our jobs and locate the Joker our way."

Forsyth locked his jaw, closing his eyes and nodding curtly, "Fine," he managed to force through gritted teeth. "But when he blows up another building, it'll be on your head, Gordon. I hope you're prepared to deal with that."

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><p>It took Bruce a moment to register the doctor before he was moving again, ignoring whatever Crane had said – something mildly annoying, no doubt, and focusing on the man who still held the gun. He dodged another hail of bullets and leapt in the air, deftly elbowing one of the approaching men in the jaw. The other man received a swift punch to the gut, followed by a bruising knee slammed into his diaphragm. He went down quickly.<p>

Crane hadn't moved from where he was standing, but he wasn't exactly still either. He was fidgeting. Obviously he hadn't expected Batman to show up and he almost definitely wasn't planning to stick around. Bruce wasn't about to let him get away; he knew where the Joker was, probably what he was planning too.

The only thing between them at the moment was the man with the rifle and the bullets couldn't last forever. Bruce stepped forward and dodged what he hoped was nearing the last shot. With one quick stride he was only a few feet from the man, grabbing on to the gun and wrenching it forward. The man kept a good grip on the gun for a moment, but then it was pulled away and Bruce threw it behind him.

He managed a hard punch the jaw before he went down, unexpected pain searing through his chest. A grunt escaped his lips as he looked down, confused for a moment when he saw the handle of a knife sticking into him through one of the chinks in the armor.

Briefly he heard Lucius' voice, telling him that the armor would be more vulnerable to knives up close. But he didn't have time to worry about the knife. The man had apparently realized his weapon had worked – at least to some extent – and had produced a second knife. This one was smaller, a pocket knife, Bruce thought. He went to stab Batman again, but found his arm suddenly twisted in a painful grip, yanked behind him as his body spun around.

He struggled for a moment and reached his free hand back, taking the knife handle and yanking it out of Bruce's chest.

The Dark Knight hissed and his grip loosened, allowing the man to pull free, spinning around to face him. One of the two men from before had recovered enough to stand and was now coming up behind Bruce. Bruce's eyes shot to Crane, who had moved from his spot near the back and was already heading toward the door at the far end, carrying something in his arms.

Bruce ignored the men and started chasing after the doctor, only making it a few feet before something hard and heavy slammed into his side, knocking him down.

"Damn it," he swore and spun, slamming a fist into the man that had hit him, landing a solid punch to the chest that sent him falling backwards and gasping for air.

"Leave him!" Crane snapped, "Let's get out of here! We're late!"

Late for what? Bruce was starting to see black spots in his vision. Too much blood loss. Damn, damn, damn. He reached out to grab the nearest man as the two of them took off, one half dragging the semi-conscious third man and muttering threats under his breath. The man shook the loose grip free and landed a solid kick to Bruce's chest, sending him to his knees for a second too long. He disappeared after the others and Bruce struggled to his feet.

He could feel the blood now and he was dizzy, hardly able to standing on his feet. Swearing in his head he started to follow after them, but his knees weren't holding him up. He forced himself up when he heard the noise.

It was faint and he only barely heard it over the pounding in his head, but it was still there. A faint click, spark maybe. He hardly had time to try and figure it out though.

He felt the heat before he saw the flames. He realized what was happening and swore again, this time loudly, as he turned and half limped toward the door he'd came in through. Flames were licking at the door, spreading through the warehouse. The heat was pressing against him, the smoke making it hard to breathe as he shoved against the door and burst out into the cool air, gasping for breath.

His eyes were watering and his lungs felt tight. He tugged at the mask, not taking it all the way off, but managing to give himself enough leeway to let the cold air more entrance.

He managed to stumble a few yards before he collapsed and tried to shove himself up, fruitlessly. His arms fell beneath him and his head slammed against the pavement, eyes rolling back in his head as everything went black.

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><p>Reid had no idea where to start looking or even exactly <em>how <em>to start looking. He ended up in the Narrows and was immensely grateful for his gun. Not that he had anything against the people who lived in this area of Gotham, but it wasn't the worst part of the city for nothing. Crime might have been bad all over Gotham City, but in the Narrows it was more than just "bad". It was an epidemic; even after all the efforts of Batman and Dent. Things hadn't improved much.

He'd been in this area of the city before; on his first day in Gotham. Arkham, or what remained of it, was just visible from where he was standing. The great, imposing hospital gate had stayed standing and marked the hill where the hospital's ruins sat. He could see some of the clean-up efforts already. Most of the rubble had been cleared away making some of the standing walls in the back more prominent.

He sighed, shaking his head. Somewhere in Gotham, the Joker was waiting with another bomb to blow something else up and he had no idea what. He wanted to call the team, but wasn't willing to risk it if the Joker really did have some way of watching him. Here in the Narrows he was sure the Joker could have men anywhere.

He was walking down a dirty street, either side bordered by dingy apartment buildings. No one was out, not at this time of night. They weren't stupid. He'd passed a few rough looking teenagers earlier but hadn't approached them. They were almost certainly drug dealers, but he doubted that they'd be able to help him and he had more important things to worry about.

He bit his lip and glanced at his watch, anxious. 1:35. There was no way he'd be able to find them before two. His eyes scanned the street. About one hundred yards ahead of him was a dark alley and a group of warehouses. Maybe the Joker had set up shop there… He jogged ahead, hope swelling his chest before he was nearly run off the road by a car, four men crammed into the small vehicle.

He didn't get a good look at the men, but he recognized the Scarecrow mask that Dr. Crane had worn in the restaurant and chased after them, ripping the gun out of its holster and firing two shots. The car kept speeding away and he slowed to a stop, deflating as it vanished from sight.

He shoved the gun back into the holster at his side and looked around anxiously, expecting the shots to have disturbed someone. Gunshots were a common enough occurrence here though; no one stirred, not even to turn on a light.

He turned back to the alley and the warehouses. Something must be down here… He spotted the flames then, rising high in the air and he swore loudly, running toward the fire, eyes wide as he stared in disbelief. He nearly tripped over something and gasped when he recognized that something as the Batman. Hazel eyes darted from the warehouse to the fallen vigilante and he glanced at his watch, shaking his head.

1:50.

He yanked his phone to his ear, calling 911. He spoke quickly, hanging up before the responder could argue with him. He slowly knelt next to Batman, turning the body over. He could see the chest rising and falling, but he also spotted the dark blood pooling beneath him. He couldn't have been laying here long, but he was unconscious. Reid started to attempt moving the man, not entirely sure why he didn't want him here when the fire department arrived, just knowing that he had to get him out of here.

Then he realized the dark mask that always covered his face was askew. Not much, but enough.

He swallowed roughly and closed his eyes, ignoring the thoughts that began buzzing in his mind, and grabbed the man by his arm. He was heavy, probably more because of the armor than actual body weight, and Reid had a tough time getting him out of the alley and into the warehouse next door. By the time he got him in, Batman was beginning to wake, grunting loudly as Reid deposited him on the floor.

He glanced down at his watch again, swearing under his breath. 1:59.

And as if on cue, his cellphone began ringing, he didn't even have to look at the caller ID to know that it was Harley's number. He didn't say anything as he answered it, knowing the Joker would probably do all the talking himself.

_"Ah, Spencey! I had such _high hopes _for you! Harley and me were just sitting here, thinking you'd show up any time now and you __**didn't!**__" _Reid gritted his teeth and listened, knowing it was coming and trying to remind himself that it was unlikely the Joker would've stopped his bomb anyway.

_"But I suppose you just lacked the right… __**motivation…**__"_

Reid bit his lip and glanced down at Batman, "Or maybe you just never intended for me to find you," he said.

_"Oh but I did, Spencey! I really did! I like you, I like you a _lot! _You could be so entertaining!"_

Reid frowned, "Entertaining?"

_"Of course! We'll just have to play another game again soon!"_

Reid started to ask what he meant about that, but the line went dead again and he glared at it for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning back to face Batman, who was struggling to sit up. As soon as he'd noticed Reid standing there, he'd reached up to fix the mask, but he knew the damage was already done.

Reid swallowed roughly and held his cellphone to him, "You're bleeding. I doubt you want to go to a hospital like this, but you need medical attention…" he hesitated, "I assume you've got someone to call, so call them."

Bruce hesitated and took the phone, satisfied for the moment that the agent wasn't going to call the cops on him. He called Alfred and spoke quickly, telling him to avoid the fire trucks that he could already hear outside. He handed the phone back to Reid and the FBI agent started down at the phone. He'd deleted the number after he hung up, but it didn't really matter. He knew exactly who he was.

Reid avoided his eyes, turning toward the door, "I'll, ah, I'll go talk to firemen," he said, glancing back at him, "Keep them away from here."

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><p>They were all gathered in the conference room again, Gordon shaking his head as he re-entered. "A fire just broke out in the Narrows, an empty warehouse…" he glanced at the clock on the wall, frowning. 2:01. "And our time's up."<p>

"I doubt he'd set fire to an empty warehouse," Prentiss said, "Where's the fun in that?"

Gordon sighed, "Well he's gonna do something. We've got to –"

Forsyth burst into the room, cutting the Commissioner off, his face pale and hands shaking.

"What the hell-?"

"Just watch," he snapped, turning on the small television that hung from the far corner of the room. The screen was instantly dominated by grainy images of a building on fire, surrounded by reporters. The agents gasped as they watched the blaze, eyes wide.

"He blew up City Hall," Forsyth said, his voice somber and quiet. "No survivors pulled out yet."

Gordon felt his heart stop for just a moment as he watched the firemen and rescue workers fighting the blaze. "…Any… any word from the Mayor?"

"No," Forsyth said quietly, "Nothing."

He nodded slowly, "Right," he took a breath and closed his eyes. "I need to make a call," his voice was still barely above a whisper as he started to step out of the room. "And then... First thing tomorrow… I want a press conference."

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><p><strong>AN: **So… er… yeah. I'm just not even gonna say anything except I hope you enjoyed, sorry it was late, and please review!


	12. Twisting Alliances

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **So it took me a while to really get any inspiration to write this chapter. Then I saw "Batman Begins" again and… I dunno what happened, but it really got my muse in the mood to write. A lot of stuff happened last chapter… Some of the consequences you'll see in this chapter, some later. Just remember what I said earlier about this story being dark and very realistic. Remember the ending of "The Dark Knight"? That not-so-happy ending? Yeah. Focus on that.

**Thanks so much** to all the amazing reviewers! You guys are what motivate me to write even when I don't really feel like it! And thanks also to the people who added this to favorites and/or alert! Means a lot to me!

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Twisting Alliances<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_"He blew up City Hall," Forsyth said, his voice somber and quiet. "No survivors pulled out yet."_

_Gordon felt his heart stop for just a moment as he watched the firemen and rescue workers fighting the blaze. "…Any… any word from the Mayor?"_

_"No," Forsyth said quietly, "Nothing."_

_He nodded slowly, "Right," he took a breath and closed his eyes. "I need to make a call," his voice was still barely above a whisper as he started to step out of the room. "And then... First thing tomorrow… I want a press conference."_

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><p>Alfred had not expected his charge to be in such bad shape and his mind flashed back to that horrible night, more than a year ago, when he'd been called to the Narrows and found a drugged and half-dead Bruce, terrified and injured.<p>

The fire trucks and police cruisers were a bit difficult to maneuver around and he spotted the familiar, somewhat shaken face of one the FBI agents he'd seen on the news amongst them. The blaze was being contained, but damage had clearly been done. The warehouse was no longer standing.

It had been used, as Bruce had suspected, by drug dealers once the Mob families discontinued its use several months previously. Dr. Crane had once used the space for his own operation, back in the days before Batman when the Falcone Family still reigned with an iron fist over the city. Now that the Mob had been whittled down to a few handfuls of resentful, bitter men and the warehouse no longer used for their clandestine meetings, small time drug dealers put it to good use.

They'd have to move shop now that it had been destroyed by Crane's fire, but in the Narrows there was no shortage of space for drug dealers and other criminals. It was just a matter of time before they set up their "offices" somewhere else.

Alfred wasn't sure how he managed it, but he avoided the curious, suspicious eyes of the cops and firemen and made his way into the silent warehouse next door. Bruce was propped against the metal wall, one hand pressed tightly against the side of his chest, mask off, eyes closed. He was breathing roughly and Alfred could tell that whatever had transpired here tonight had left the Batman a broken man.

It took some considerable effort to get Bruce into the back of the car. Bruce, injured and semi-conscious as he was, tried to help but his legs would hardly hold him up. It was through sheer strength of will that the butler managed to get him settled.

He pointedly ignored the sickening twist he felt to his insides when he realized just how much blood the younger man had lost. He'd seen the bruises and the dislocated shoulders and the broken ribs before. Even the gruesome marks of a vicious dog were not new the butler's eyes, but Bruce was always careful to hide the worst of his injuries if he could and Alfred could not remember having ever seen him stabbed before.

Lucius Fox was waiting at the penthouse with a medical kit and anxious nerves. He was by no means a doctor, but he knew enough and Alfred knew enough. If Bruce needed a hospital, they'd get him to Gotham General as soon as they could, but not until they could assess the damage themselves. The less gossip there was the better.

Bruce passed out on the way to the penthouse and Alfred was not entirely keen on having to get him out again. They were lucky it was so dark out and the Joker's bomb had diverted most of the city's attention anyway. The penthouse was nice, but lacked the privacy of Wayne Manor and Alfred would be extremely relieved when they were able to move back into the old place; it had been a long time coming, but within the month the Manor would be ready if he had anything to say about it.

With the help of Mr. Fox, Bruce was taken and carried into the dining room where a place had been cleared off on the table for him. Getting him out of the armor proved to be a bit laborious, but they got it done and Lucius whistled lightly, shaking his head at the grievous wound in the young man's side.

They cleaned away the blood and could see the nasty bruises forming along his ribcage, but nothing appeared to be broken. It was the knife would that was the issue. While not as deep as Alfred had feared, the cut was jagged and rough and a lot of blood had been lost.

"We'll be able to stitch it closed," Lucius assured Alfred, "I don't think any of his ribs are broken, but you've got to keep him in bed for a couple of days. From the looks of this… it was some fight down in the Narrows tonight."

Alfred merely nodded, still worried as he looked down at the pale form of the man he'd promised to take care of when he was just a boy. The man he'd raised, practically as his own son. Thing had been getting better, Gotham calming down. Even the hunts for the Batman had been losing their fire in the last few weeks. He had thought, hoped, perhaps, that soon Bruce would be ready to lock his armor away for good.

Then the Joker had escaped and he knew now that Bruce would not let Batman disappear into the night until he was certain that the city was safe and he was no longer needed. He was beginning to fear that that day would never come and his chest felt tight at the dread of more nights like these when Bruce's life and safety had been compromised so severely. He only hoped that those days would be few and far between.

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><p>By the time Reid left the site of the fire he'd gotten two calls from Morgan and one from Hotch. He was sure neither of them knew yet that he'd been the one to call in the fire, but they would soon enough. The cops had asked their questions, the fire was nearly out and they discovered another body near the destroyed building. It was unrecognizable, burnt and blistered as it was, but the fire hadn't done too much damage to it and they could see where the man's torso was riddled with bullet holes. It was a good bet that he'd been dead before the fire ever started.<p>

His sighting of Crane in the area had doubled the amount of patrol cars out, but they couldn't really spare many. They needed everyone they could get to be at City Hall, straightening out the mess there and getting the small crowd that had gathered to go home.

Reid was fidgety on the train as he glanced at his watch. It was after three in the morning now and he was exhausted, but his mind was still spinning and he had no idea what he was going to do. He finally called Hotch when he made it back to the hotel, standing outside the entrance, wondering whether or not he should head to the police station.

At first, Hotch had told him to sit tight, but Reid quickly explained that he had to tell them something important.

_"Alright, Reid, but I don't want you to leave until we head back for the hotel. You and Morgan are confined to the conference room or the hotel for the remainder of this case. You're both too injured to be in the field."_

The entire ride to the station Reid was constantly debating with himself about how much to tell the team. Obviously, he would tell them about the fire and Crane and probably about the Joker's call. But then there was that _other _matter.

On the one hand, Batman was a vigilante, a wanted felon. On the other hand, to his knowledge, Batman had never killed anyone and had, in fact, been a major factor in turning the city around. If it hadn't been for the Batman, Carmine Falcone would still be head of the Falcone Family, Vincent Maroni would have likely started his own "Family", Harvey Dent never would've gotten into office and countless thousands of people would be dead.

As things stood, Maroni was dead, Falcone locked away in Arkham – or, at the moment, the off-island facility that the inmates were currently held in – and though Dent had died, he had cleared the streets of several dozen high ranking Mob guys before the Joker had caused him to snap.

And really, what damage had Batman done? Morgan would argue that it didn't matter because vigilantism was still illegal and more often than not led to needless complications in the police department and legal system, not to mention that nine times out of ten, vigilantes became murderers.

In the end, the answer was decided for him when he entered the conference room at nearly four in the morning and spotted the Commissioner, the DA and Hotch all talking quietly in one corner. Morgan, Rossi, Prentiss and JJ were seated at the table, barely able to keep their eyes open, scattered files around them.

"What are these?" he asked, frowning and picking up one of the files.

"The Batman files," Prentiss said tiredly, barely lifting her head. They had been working around the clock and could not wait until they were allowed to go back to the hotel and get some real sleep.

"Why are you looking at his files? I thought we were profiling the Joker?"

"We decided to profile Batman, see what it is about him that the Joker's fascinated by…" Rossi explained, stifling a yawn. Reid glanced to Morgan, shaking his head when he realized that older man was sleeping, head tilted back, broken arm tight against his chest, mouth hanging slightly open. It was a somewhat comical sight, but Reid had other things to worry about.

The young agent pressed his lips together, still not sure if he should tell them what he'd discovered in the alley in the Narrows or not. He started to tell them about Crane and the destroyed warehouse, but glanced over at the whispering group of men in the corner and frowned.

"What are they talking about? I heard City Hall was hit…"

"They're still pulling people out. No one survived as far as we can tell and there's no sign of the Mayor anywhere," JJ's voice was quiet and somber, her eyes flickering to the corner of the room and then back.

Reid nodded, his throat feeling tight as he heard the Joker's words echoing in his mind. How many people had died this time? How many innocent lives could have been spared if he'd been able to stop it? He tried not to think like that. It wouldn't do them any good and besides that, he doubted very seriously that finding the Joker and Dr. Quinzel would've stopped the bomb anyway.

"Gordon's finally decided to do a press conference," Rossi spoke up, glancing over at them. "Tomorrow afternoon once they've got everyone cleared from City Hall."

Reid felt something in him twist a bit. Gordon was going to tell Gotham the truth? Images of the Commissioner in handcuffs, being led into County Lockup, flashed through his mind. The appeals that would soon flood the DA's office, the overturned convictions, criminals back on the street. For some reason, he couldn't believe that Gordon would allow that. Not after all that had happened, not after all he'd risked to keep the Joker from getting what he wanted.

He chose his words carefully, still feeling just a little sick, "Is he sure that's the right thing to do?"

Prentiss shook her head, "None of us are sure, Reid, but what other options do we have right now? The Joker's just going to keep escalating until there's nothing left we can do."

"Besides, you know we can't cover this up forever. It's got to come out, one way or another,"

Reid shook his head, "When it comes out it shouldn't be on the Joker's terms. This is what he wants, we can't just let that happen,"

"We don't have any other choice," Hotch said, Forsyth nodding stiffly. He still had not been told what was being announced at the press conference, but he knew that whatever it was, it was important. He walked briskly out of the room before Hotch continued speaking, glancing at Gordon's pale face.

"Forsyth just got word from City Hall. Mayor Garcia's dead,"

Silence filled the room for over a minute, even Morgan was awake now, rubbing his free hand over his face and shaking his head in quiet disbelief. Gordon was the most shaken of them all, having been colleagues and sometimes friends with the Mayor. The Joker had dealt heavy hands to Gotham before, but this was a blow that Gordon could not sweep aside quite so lightly, even if it meant the end of his career and probably his freedom, he couldn't bear the weight of the secret any longer. It was time for Gotham to know the truth.

Hotch finally broke the silence, "There's nothing more we can do here tonight. Let's get some rest, tomorrow's gonna be rough…"

Dutifully, the team filed out, all grateful to finally be getting some well-deserved sleep. Reid hung back and spoke to Hotch, filling him on what had happened in the Narrows, leaving out nothing except the Batman's presence and the knowledge that was eating him alive inside.

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><p>The early morning sun was peaking in through the slats in the grimy windows and doors of the old building. After the attack on the restaurant, Crane had insisted that they move from the warehouse by the docks and into a more secure location. Now they were in one of the old houses Falcone had once used for higher ranking members in his "Family". Still in the Narrows, of course. After all, it wasn't the home Falcone himself, or even Maroni, had lived in.<p>

It was much larger and far more conducive to work. Crane had made a few calls and managed to gather about ten men who had once been on his payroll to enlist in their endeavor and was still in the process of making a few more calls. The Doctor was nothing if not organized.

Since last night's near disaster, he'd been doing his own research. He knew about as much as he could about the Batman (though, arguably, not as much as the Joker appeared to know), but that young FBI agent had been there and Crane couldn't help but think that if he'd been a few hours earlier he'd have uncovered their hiding place. It was this thought that had made him glad he'd forced the move.

Dr. Spencer Reid was, to say the least, a genius and he was finding himself more and more interested in the young man than he had been previously. The Joker either had no idea of this fact, or was deliberately keeping information from him.

Of course, that wasn't so surprising considering Crane _still _hadn't been told the plan. The Joker insisted he had no plan, which only infuriated him more, true or not.

As he was reading over the information, the Joker himself walked into the small room, face already painted and thick hair lying flat against his head. There was a terrible, frightening light in his dark eyes.

"Good _morn_-ing, Doctor!" he giggled, clapping purple gloved hands together and grinning that creepy grin of his. Crane ignored him, frowning as he turned to face the clown.

"Did you know any of this?" he demanded, tapping the screen of the laptop he'd taken from one of the men who'd arrived the previous night.

The Joker raised a brow and leaned in, his eyes only focusing on the words for a brief moment before straightening up and laughing.

"Checking out the other doc, _Doc_?" he asked, chuckling at his joke.

"Do you even realize who he is?" Crane demanded, "The kid's a genius! He's got one of brightest minds in the country! He's written papers for –"

"He's in-tell-uh-gent, I _know!_" The Joker sighed, shaking his head, "Why do you think I _like _him so much?"

Crane scowled, "This kid is more than intelligent," he snapped, "He's a genius! You're lucky he didn't find us last night; he was right there! We don't need to play games with him, we need to get him out of the way –"

"Do _not _touch him!" the Joker snarled, shaking his head. There was something vicious and animalistic in his voice that made Crane very nearly want to shrink back, but he wasn't about to let the Joker screw this up if he was going to be a part of it.

He stood from his seat, glaring at the other man, "Give me a reason," he snapped.

The Joker's eyes twinkled with a delighted and terrifying light, "You'll see,"

Crane growled under his breath and stormed out of the room, ignoring the Joker's piercing gaze behind him. He was not about to trust a man who couldn't give him anything other than cryptic promises and not-plans. The only reason he hadn't called it quits yet was the bombing last night. With the Mayor dead, Gotham was shaken up, the police scattered and the citizens horrified. The more damaged and frightened the city was, the better. But that didn't mean he was going to risk it because of the Joker.

His mind went back to the young FBI agent and the things he'd read about him. The Joker was right about one thing; he was fascinating indeed. Slowly, a plan began formulating in his mind.

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><p>Reid hadn't gotten much sleep that night, but he was up at seven in the morning anyway, wide awake and anxious. He'd spent the night trying to think of something - anything - that would stop the Commissioner from going through with the Press Conference. Whatever else happened, he knew that it was a bad idea to make that announcement. No matter what lives were lost, Gotham knowing the truth would only encourage the Joker even more in this game he seemed to be playing.<p>

By the time the sun was up, Reid knew there wasn't much he could do to stop the press conference from happening that afternoon, but he thought there might be someone who could help him. He just wasn't sure how to approach the matter.

He left the hotel quickly, avoiding the rest of the team and ignoring Hotch's orders to stay put. He understood that he couldn't really be working in the field, but he was hardly putting himself in the line of fire. Which is how he ended up taking a cab into the richer section of the city - a drastic change from the dingy, almost forgotten Narrows of the previous night – to the home of the Prince of Gotham: Bruce Wayne.

He was let into the penthouse apartment by the butler, an older, kindly man whose name was Alfred. Reid remembered that being the name he'd heard Bruce mutter the night before when he'd used his phone to call for help.

Alfred was eyeing him curiously and Reid suddenly wondered if he knew that he knew Bruce Wayne was "The Batman".

"I'm afraid Master Wayne had a bit of a rough night, Sir," Alfred said with quiet ease, "But if there's some message you'd like me to pass along…"

Reid hesitated for a second. He knew that the fight last night had left Batman in bad shape, but he needed to speak to him, at least briefly. For a moment he wasn't sure if Alfred knew the truth or not, but there was something about the way the older man was eyeing him anxiously that told him he did.

He shook his head, "It's something I need to talk to him about in person," he said, "About what happened last night. In the Narrows."

He bit his lip nervously, wondering if Bruce had told his butler about the FBI agent who'd dragged him out of the way. He had barely been conscious when Reid had went to talk to the fire men. Perhaps he'd passed out and hadn't woken up since. He hoped he at least had had some sort of medical attention; there had been far too much blood on the ground that night.

Alfred seemed to stiffen a bit at his words but gave no real indication of how much impact they had, "At the moment that's impossible," Alfred said, his words still calm and easy. Reid was amazed at how well he contained his emotions.

Reid took a deep breath. He didn't want to come across like he was trying to extort them; at the moment he didn't have any plans of revealing the identity of Batman (though he was still partly surprised that he had kept that information to himself).

"It's important," he said, "The Commissioner is planning a press conference and I'm sure he'd like to hear about it before it happens."

He didn't know what made Alfred reconsider. Maybe it was the desperation in his voice, maybe Bruce had told him about the night before. In any case, the butler slowly nodded and said he would have to check with Master Wayne before allowing anyone into the room. He came back a few minutes later and led Reid back into a large, stark room.

He was surprised at the lack of anything personal in the room, then he remembered that this wasn't really "home" for Bruce Wayne. He'd been living in the penthouse since Wayne Manor had been burned down (allegedly by Bruce Wayne himself, though Reid was beginning to doubt that story was entirely true now that he knew who Bruce Wayne really was).

Bruce Wayne himself was not looking so good. He was pale from the blood loss, lying in bed. His eyes were heavy with sleep though his face was void of any real marks of violence. His bare chest was visibly bruised and as he shifted to sit up a bit straighter Reid didn't fail to catch the way his face scrunched up a bit in pain. Alfred left quietly, but Reid noticed how his eyes lingered on the other man anxiously. He must really care about him…

The billionaire eyed him with a small frown on his face, his expression difficult to read. His face was carefully void of any real signs that gave away what he was thinking, blue eyes almost deliberately murky as he eyed the FBI agent.

"I didn't expect you to come here,"

Reid took a moment and smiled faintly, "What did you expect?"

"Honestly?" Bruce shrugged, ignoring the twinge of pain that the movement sent through his chest. He'd taken quite a few beatings over the past few days and it was all coming back to him now. "I expected an army of cops and FBI agents to show up with handcuffs."

The young agent shrugged, "I think Gotham has worse things to worry about than finding Batman," he said quietly, "You don't have anything to worry about."

Bruce seemed to mull over that information for a moment before nodding slowly, "Then what is it you want to talk to me about?"

"Commissioner Gordon," Reid's voice was a bit stiff then, "He's planning a press conference for this afternoon; he's going to announce the truth about Harvey Dent's death."

Bruce's eyes flashed to Reid's and he shoved the blanket back, forcing himself to sit up and displaying the nasty, blotchy bruises that made their way down his sides and disappeared beneath the waistline of the loose pants he was wearing. Reid cringed at the injuries and shook his head, holding his hands up to stop him.

"No, don't," he said, "You're hurt."

"I've been worse," Bruce grunted, but he sat back anyway, feeling the painful strain on his muscles. As much as he might want to be out there, he would have to take at least one night off to allow himself some real time to heal.

"I don't doubt it…" he hesitated, still having so many questions he wanted to ask, but Bruce seemed to beat him to it.

"Why not turn me in?" he asked curiously, "You're an FBI agent, right?"

"Like I said, Gotham has more important things to worry about…" he sighed, "The Joker isn't going to be stopped by this press conference; it's just going to make things worse."

Bruce nodded, frowning for a moment, "Did you tell him that?"

"It's the only option we have," Reid sighed, "The bombing last night killed twenty-four people, including the Mayor. He can't hold the DA off any longer and Gotham wants answers."

"Not this answer," Bruce said, more to himself than Reid.

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, watching the other man's face. He'd seen and heard a lot about the famous (or perhaps, infamous) Bruce Wayne, but meeting him now, seeing him up close, he couldn't seem to reconcile the two images. This man was not the same man portrayed on the news so often. This was a different man entirely.

He nodded slowly, "But there's not another answer for us to give them, unfortunately…" again he hesitated, "I thought you'd want to know, but you deleted the number from the phone. Normally, I could've had our technical analyst retrace the call, but that seemed somewhat counterproductive to not telling anyone what had happened last night, so –"

"Do you always ramble when you're anxious?"

Reid smiled again, "No, apparently I also ramble when I'm really excited about something or interested in something… And I'm not anxious; I just know that this press conference is a bad idea."

Bruce nodded, running a hand over his face wearily. It was the first time Reid had seen any real sign of emotion from him, though he thought he'd caught a few snatches of worry in his carefully distant eyes.

"I appreciate you telling me," he said, "There's not much I can do, but… being Bruce Wayne does have some advantages," he smiled a bit ruefully, "I'll make some calls and see what I can do."

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><p>It was almost 10:30 in the morning and Crane had heard talk of a press conference and was frankly amazed that the Commissioner was really going to do what the Joker wanted him to do. Didn't he realize how little that was going to help? With a man like the Joker, giving in to his demands was the last thing anyone wanted to do.<p>

He'd left the island early that morning with two of the men he'd recruited. He found the hotel the FBI agents were staying at without too much work, but was surprised when he found out that he had already left on some errand. It had taken him a while, but eventually he caught up the young man again.

"What is he doing here?" he wondered, watching the thin young man try to hail a cab. He shook his head, "Never mind, we'll find out later. Pull up, pick him up,"

He was sitting in the back of a cab, one of the recruits driving it. Of course, it wasn't an actual Gotham City cab, but it was an extremely good replica. It had been employed by the Maroni family before their head had been killed.

Crane wasn't wearing the scarecrow mask today, not for this. It was risky enough coming into downtown Gotham in the middle of the day; he wasn't going to add more risk to that by wearing the obvious identifier.

The car pulled up alongside of the young doctor and Crane watched his face, carefully anxious as he slid into the backseat, not spotting him through the dark windows at first. It was Crane's hand on his shoulder that alerted him to danger and his hand was on his gun immediately.

But not quite fast enough.

"Hello, Dr. Reid," Crane smiled brightly, his smile nowhere near as creepy as the Joker's but still carrying a weight of terror with it. Reid felt the sharp pinch of a needle in his neck and seconds later he was out cold, eyes rolling back in his head before he went limp.

Crane's smile softened to something far more sinister and he leaned forward, "What are you waiting for? Drive!"

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><p><strong>AN: **So yeah. Um. Again, "cliffhanger"? Probably. But still.

Don't know what I think about this chapter. It was a bit difficult to write in a few places, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Hope you guys enjoyed, please review!


	13. We Now Interrupt This Program

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **Sorry for the wait on this chapter, guys. This time it wasn't other fanfics, it was an original story, which, hate to say, is more important to me than fanfiction considering I want to be an author. But don't worry, no matter what, I'll absolutely never abandon my fanfics – especially this one, it's become a favorite of mine.

Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed! Your reviews give me the motivation (and kick in the butt) to keep writing when I just don't feel like doing anything. And of course, thanks to all those who added this to their favorites and story alert as well! You guys are awesome!

Now, back to the story!

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen: We Now Interrupted This Program...<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_"Hello, Dr. Reid," Crane smiled brightly, his smile nowhere near as creepy as the Joker's but still carrying a weight of terror with it. Reid felt the sharp pinch of a needle in his neck and seconds later he was out cold, eyes rolling back in his head before he went limp._

_Crane's smile softened to something far more sinister and he leaned forward, "What are you waiting for? Drive!"_

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><p>His head was pounding angrily when he woke and a low groan escaped his lips before he could stop himself. He shifted uncomfortably and grimaced in pain. He discovered very quickly that his movement was restrained due to rope or some other type of binding. He was sitting upright in a soft chair, he supposed, but he didn't open his eyes yet, trying to gauge the situation first. He could hear angry voices, two men. They sounded familiar, but Reid wasn't entirely sure why yet. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tried to force himself to remember what had happened through the haze his mind was in.<p>

He remembered going by Bruce Wayne's penthouse. He remembered talking to him, warning him about Gordon's press conference. He had hailed a cab and… everything was blurry after that so whatever happened, happened there.

"_No, no, no, no, no, __**no!**_" suddenly his mind caught up with what was happening around him and he recognized the angry voice he was hearing. The Joker. Shit. "You don't seem to _understand, _**Doc!** I said 'Don't _touch'_ that means… _DON'T TOUCH!"_

The last words were yelled in a vicious, horrifying voice and Reid instinctively opened his eyes wide, staring around the room he was in. He was alone, for the moment, the voices coming from outside the door. Staring around the space he realized he was in some kind of office. There was a bare desk, a bookcase stacked with what looked like notebooks, and an old television. The walls were papered with yellowed and peeling wallpaper, the carpet was stained with what could have been wine or blood, there were no windows and the only light source was a small lamp with a flickering yellow bulb.

"And I told you we can't afford to play games with this one!" the other voice hissed and Reid frowned, leaning forward a bit in the chair he was tied to. He had heard that voice before, somewhere, but he couldn't quiet place where.

"He's too smart, damn it, toy with him long enough and he could bring this whole thing down. Is that what you want?"

"What I _want," _the Joker said, his voice hitting that odd, high pitched taunt, "Is for you to _listen _when I give you an _**order!**_"

"Order?" the other man snapped, definitely angry now, "No, you don't give me orders, alright? I told you before, I am _not _your lackey!" That had to be Dr. Crane, Reid realized. Only someone like Crane would stand up to the Joker that way.

There was a pause and then something, or someone, hit the wall with a dull thud. "You want to see this _degenerate _city **burning**, Jonny boy, and _I _can do that. But unless you want to be d_ead _when it happens… You. Will. _Not. _Cross. _**Me.**_"

Reid swallowed roughly, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He had to admit, Dr. Crane was a piece of work and definitely not the kind of man he'd ever want to mess with. But the Joker? The Joker was worse. The way he smiled, the way he laughed, the way he talked. There wasn't anything about the man that wasn't disturbing on some level. And Reid had managed to get himself trapped with both of them. Fantastic.

Although, as long as he was here, maybe he could find out what had happened to Harley and figure out a way to stop them from doing whatever they were going to do. Shouldn't be too difficult; they were already at each other's throats.

He was testing the strength of the ropes binding his hands behind him when he heard the door creaking open slowly. He froze, biting his lip and looking up to see the Joker, painted face and all, grinning at him from the other side of the door.

"Well, Spencey," he said, chuckling darkly, "Looks like _I _found you instead… We'll have to play a whole new _game _won't we?"

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><p>"Has anyone seen Reid?" Morgan asked, frowning as he looked around. They were in the conference room again, getting ready for the press conference that Gordon had called. They only had about an hour to go and none of them were sure how this was going to end. Badly was about the only word that really seemed to fit.<p>

"Not since we got back to the hotel last night," Prentiss said, "Where'd he go? You two were rooming together, right?"

"Yeah, but he was gone when I got up this morning," Morgan said, "I figured he'd come down here early, but I haven't seen him and he's not answering his phone…"

"Maybe he's out looking for Dr. Quinzel again," JJ suggested, "He said he was doing that last night after the Joker called. Do you think he called him again?"

Hotch shook his head, glancing over at the Commissioner before speaking. Gordon was pale and a bit shaky. He clearly didn't want to go through with the Press Conference, but they didn't have very many options left open to them at the moment and this was the only way that he could clear his conscience.

"No, he told me he'd call me immediately if he got another call, no matter what,"

"Have you tried his cell?" Rossi asked, his eyes on the door. It wasn't like Reid to be late, especially for something this important. Reid didn't agree with this Press Conference and, frankly, Rossi would have rather had another option as well. But Reid would surely have been here, trying to convince them to give it more time. So where was he?

Morgan sighed, "Straight to voicemail," he said, "Hotch, what if something happened to him?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Hotch said, shaking his head. "We don't know that anything's wrong yet. Call Garcia, see if she can get a trace on his phone and keep trying him. Maybe his phone died. Right now, we've got to get ready for the Press Conference, alright?"

Forsyth walked in the doors with a concerned look on his face, putting his hands on his hips. "It's already getting crowded out there," he said, "People started showing up an hour ago and the press is already waiting. Whatever you're gonna tell them, Gordon, you're going to have the entire city there to hear it."

Gordon nodded, "Good. The more the better…"

"Look, are you sure you don't want any guards on you?" Forsyth asked anxiously, "Last time something this huge happened with the Joker out there, he took a shot at the Mayor."

"Mayor Garcia's dead," Gordon spat, looking up angrily at the DA, "If the Joker wants to kill me, let him try."

Hotch shook his head, "Commissioner, this isn't smart," he said, "We've got security out there, but there isn't a guarantee we can prevent an assassination attempt if he tries. You've got a wife and children out there. It's one thing to risk your life doing your job, it's another to walk into a dangerous situation without any kind of protection…"

Gordon sighed, "Agent Hotchner, if this bastard wants to kill me, he's had plenty of chances. If he's gonna try today, then, fine. I'm not going to lay down for the psycho and let him take me, don't worry. But I'm not hiding behind guards to take a bullet for me. No way."

Hotch just shook his head, clearly unconvinced that Gordon was making the right call here. But it was his decision and if he wanted to be suicidal, then so be it.

"Hotch, Garcia can't get a trace on Reid's phone," Morgan suddenly spoke up, sounding anxious. Hotch clenched his eyes shut. Not now, not with all that was already happening. Reid couldn't be in trouble now.

"JJ, you and Morgan go back to the hotel, see if you can find anything that might tell you where he was headed this morning. Get Garcia to find any CCTV images of him she can. Prentiss and Rossi will stay here with us. Hurry."

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><p>Bruce was sitting up in bed, only half dressed. Lucius had given the board some story about him pulling a muscle the previous night, which Bruce was certain they would take to mean he was hung over. Not that he cared. The more they assumed, the better off he was.<p>

Alfred wouldn't let him get out of the bed, insisting that he had to take the day – and night – off for once. Damn inconvenient, if you asked Bruce. He had so many things to get done and he could work better if he were able to get around and make contact with the people. As things were, he was confined to his bedroom and only able to make phone calls.

The first person he'd called was Mr. Fox, to check in on his search of Arkham employees. So far, Dr. Quinzel was the only one that really stood out from them. Not in a blatantly obvious "I'm a psycho" sort of way, of course. More of a "I'm slightly unhinged and hiding it" kind of way. She was his only lead so far and she had been kidnapped, supposedly, by the Joker. After that, he began working on attempting to stop that press conference.

He called several newspaper owners, trying to use his status as "Prince of Gotham" to get them away from the conference, to no avail. Everyone knew that whatever Gordon was going to say would be big and none of the media outlets were going to miss it, not even for Bruce Wayne.

The Mayor was, tragically, out of the picture and he had been Bruce's best contact. He didn't have as many political contacts as he'd like, although his support of Harvey Dent before his death had earned a few new friends in politics than he'd had before.

Eventually, Bruce decided to call the new DA, Brian Forsyth. He'd met the man a few times and Forsyth seemed to respect him and had had Bruce's support, in a small way, during his campaign. Of course, unlike Dent, Forsyth was incredibly anti-Batman. Not that Bruce blamed him. Half of Gotham thought Batman had killed Dent and the small percentage of those who still supported Batman was never going to be enough to bring back his image as the city's hero.

"Brian? Yes, this is Bruce Wayne… Yeah, I heard about the Mayor this morning. Look, can I have a minute? It's about the Press Conference this afternoon. Now, I'm not really one for all these politics, you know, but I was just thinking…"

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><p>"Anything, Baby Girl?" Morgan was standing with JJ outside of the hotel. They hadn't found anything in the hotel room. Not a note, nothing. Reid had taken his gun with him and his cellphone wasn't there either so they were pretty sure he'd left voluntarily.<p>

_"He left the hotel at about seven this morning," _Garcia said, biting her lip and twirling a pen around between her fingers. It was bad enough that her babies had already been hurt and nearly killed more than once of this case, but now Reid was MIA and she was not about to go through what she'd gone through the last time he'd been kidnapped.

_"He took the train into downtown and CCTV picked him up near the new Palace Condominium complex. They lose him for about twenty minutes, but then he's back out again, getting into a cab."_

"Then what?"

Garcia sighed, _"That's where things get hinky," _she said, _"This cab driver avoided CCTV like the plague. I lost them going over the bridge into the Narrows. I thought it was weird, so I ran the cab number and it's not a registered cab, so then I ran the license plate and that came back stolen."_

Morgan closed his eyes for a moment, "Damn it," he muttered, "Any way you could get us an ID on the driver?"

_"Already working on it. I was able to get a clear shot of the guy on the corner after they picked up Reid. Whoever was driving wasn't Dr. Crane or Jack Napier, but that's not good news since they could still be working for them and they have my baby, Derek and –"_

"Hey, hey!" Morgan shook his head, "Calm down, Baby Girl, do you really think I'd let anything happen to Reid? Don't you worry, we'll get him back and I'll make sure whoever took him wishes they were dead before I'm finished."

Garcia nodded slowly, _"You'd better," _she said, _"…I'll, uh, I'll call you whenever I get an ID on the driver. And you'd better call me if you hear anything!"_

"You'll be the first person I call, Garcia, don't worry,"

Morgan shook his head as he hung up and glanced over at JJ, "Looks like they grabbed Reid," he said, "Early this morning, around eight o'clock. We've got to call Hotch."

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><p>Reid's heart was pounding in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm, at least on the outside. He didn't want to show the Joker how scared he truly was at the moment. He could hear Crane's footsteps moving away from the door and down a hall and then they faded from hearing range and all he had left was the sound of his own breathing and the Joker's suppressed giggles.<p>

"You know, _Spencey,_" he said, grinning and pulling the chair behind the desk out, sitting it down right in front of him and plopping himself into the seat. "This seems a bit _fa-mill-yer, _doesn't it?"

Reid swallowed roughly, "What do you mean?"

"You and me," he waved his gloved hand between the two of them, dark eyes staying locked with Reid's. "Sitting alone in a room. Except _this time_ you get to be the one all _tied-up!"_ He started giggling again louder than before, his yellow teeth flashing for a brief moment.

Reid nodded slowly, "It does seem familiar," he agreed, speaking slowly.

"Mhm," the Joker nodded, tilting his head thoughtfully. "So… why don't we have a little _talk_, Spencey? Just you and me?"

"Talk? About what?"

The Joker grinned, "Oh, that would be _cheating_, Spencey. You don't want to _cheat _do you?"

"…About me?"

"Bingo!"

Reid licked his lips nervously, the insane smile on the Joker's face making him nervous. The last time he'd seen that smile up close he'd ended up in the hospital. In fact, the time before that he'd ended up in the hospital as well. He certainly wasn't eager to learn what was going to happen to him this time.

"Okay, we'll talk about me," he said carefully, "If you'll talk to me about you."

The Joker's eyes gleamed, "I don't know, _Spencey._ I'm not really sure you'd like to hear _that _story."

"Of course I would," Reid said quickly, "You're the Joker. Everyone wants to know your story."

The Joker's grin twisted into a sinister smirk, "Do you like _horror _stories, Spencey? Because that's my story. A horror story. Are you sure you can _stomach _it?"

Reid wasn't sure if that was a trick question or not, but after a moment of hesitation, he nodded slowly.

The Joker chuckled darkled, "Welllll, if you're _sure _then I'll tell you _all _about me. You just have to do me a little favor, Spencey, that's all…"

"Favor?"

The Joker's eyes gleamed and he leaned forward, "You're not _camera-shy _are you?"

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><p>Bruce sighed heavily, a feeling of dread in his stomach as he stared at the TV screen. The Press Conference was starting in five minutes and GCN had already started showing live footage of the crowd outside of the demolished City Hall. Families of those who'd been killed were right up front, just behind the roped off section for the media. He felt sick watching the families crying for the people they'd lost.<p>

The Mayor's wife was seated on near the podium that they'd set up, crying and trying her best to contain her emotions. Two FBI agents were next to her and the DA on their other side. Gordon was standing back with them, talking quietly.

He'd tried every contact he had after Forsyth hadn't been helpful. None of them had that kind of power and Gotham had reached a consensus. They wanted to hear what Gordon had to say. As much as Bruce understood them wanting the truth, they weren't ready for it and this would be end of Jim Gordon's career. He hated that he'd ever dragged him into this mess now. He was about to lose his job, probably his freedom and family as well, because of him.

Alfred came into the room with a tray for his lunch. He hadn't eaten breakfast, but Alfred had insisted that he at least attempt to eat lunch. Bruce wasn't really in the mood for eating at the moment, but he thanked Alfred anyway and smiled a bit when the old butler stood next to the bed, eyes riveted to the television screen.

Gordon was moving to stand at the podium now, Bruce noticed the faintest of tremors in his hands as he gripped the sides of the stand and cleared his throat. He started speaking slowly, addressing first the people who'd lost family members the previous night and then the entire city, telling them that he had something important to tell them.

Bruce was clutching the remote tightly in his hands, waiting for the words to come out of the Commissioner's mouth and tear apart everything that they had worked to preserve for the last six months.

But no words came. At first, he thought Gordon had just choked a bit, but then he saw the smoke and screams began echoing through the TV speakers as a fire erupted underneath the podium. One of the FBI agents grabbed Gordon and dragged him away while the others got the Mayor's widow off the stage and GCPD began clearing the area as the fire spread.

Reporters were talking anxiously about unexpected disaster and clear involvement from the Joker when the image on the screen froze, went fuzzy and then returned to reveal a grinning image of the Joker, laughing brightly.

"What the Hell…" Bruce sat forward, eyes wide as he stared at the screen. The Joker was in a room, an office by the looks of it, and behind him sat two people. Dr. Quinzel, who appeared unconscious, bound and gagged, and Agent Reid, who was fully awake, but also bound and gagged.

The Joker's laughter filled the room for a moment and Bruce was transfixed, unable to take his eyes away from the screen.

_"Hellooo, Gotham! Did you miss me?"_

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><p><strong>AN: **Yeah. That was another cliffhanger. And this chapter was a bit shorter than normal (sorry). I really wanted to get it out there before you guys thought I'd died. Plus, it really was the best place to leave it and… I am addicted to cliffhangers. So, I apologize.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! More to come soon! Please review!


	14. Symmetry

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **First, thanks so much to all the reviewers! (I cannot believe there are 220 reviews now!) I really appreciate your support and encouragement! You guys make me smile!

Second, I apologize for the cliffhanger last chapter. I'm just a cruel person, I suppose. More things happening this chapter, hope you enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: Symmetry<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_The Joker's laughter filled the room for a moment and Bruce was transfixed, unable to take his eyes away from the screen._

_"Hellooo, Gotham! Did you miss me?"_

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><p>Reid's eyes were glued to the camera. The Joker hadn't wasted time or minced words after their exchanged earlier, he'd simply stuffed the gag into his mouth and left, returning with Crane and Harley moments later. From what Reid could tell, Harley was out of it, her head lolling uselessly to the side, eyes closed. She appeared unhurt, so far, but Reid couldn't even ask what was going on because of the gag.<p>

Crane had given him and odd look, large eyes settling on him and staying there. His smile was almost as disturbing as the Joker's, who left them alone to go do God knows what somewhere else in the house.

Reid cleared his throat and studied the other man, wishing he could talk to him, but even if he'd wanted to, he wouldn't have had the chance because the Joker was back just as quickly as he'd gone and he was with some young red headed woman. She was pretty, a splash of freckles across her face, tall, hair spilling in curls around her shoulders. But there was something off in her eyes; they were cold and calculating and flashed to Reid the moment she entered the room.

She smiled and bent over, setting up what Reid realized was a camera on a tri-pod and then a laptop. It took her several minutes but finally, she straightened and took a seat behind the laptop, "Alright," she said, "We're in. You can start filming."

Reid's head was spinning, trying to pull together all the facts that he could so far. Crane and the Joker were working together, clear enough, but they also didn't get along very well. One was going to go too far with the other sooner rather than later. Seeing as the Joker had lost the men he'd had with him at the elementary school, either he'd found new ones or Crane had brought his own.

This woman was definitely not the Mafia type, or doubtfully anywhere near the same caliber of bad guy as Crane of Jack. But she also obviously served a purpose. Whatever the Joker was doing here involved Harley and him and the only thing he could guess would be some sort of hostage situation or ransom. Maybe a trade, but for what? Gordon was making his announcement right now, or already had. What else did he want?

"Now I know, _Com-ish-on-er _Gordon was about to make some big announcement, let the _innocent_ citizens of Gotham in on a little… _secret _of his," the Joker's dark eyes glittered as he stared into the camera, licking his lips and grinning wide.

"But I changed my mind," he said, "I don't want _Gordon_ to tell the truth, no, no, no, no! I want… **Batman** to get on that stage, tonight, and tell _everyone _what really happened to _Harvey Dent_."

Reid's eyes widened and he jerked his head toward the Joker, blinking in shock. He wanted Batman to tell everyone? How did he even expect that was going to work? There was no way Gotham PD were going to let the Batman anywhere close enough to a news camera to tell anyone anything. Batman was a murdering fugitive as far as they were concerned.

"And…" the Joker paused and looked back at Harley and Reid, grinning wide. "If he _doesn't _then people will die. Starting with the _lovely _Dr. Quinzel, then my new special friend, _Dr. Reid._"

Reid swallowed roughly as the Joker moved to stand behind Harley. He jerked in his bindings when he caught sight of the silver blade in the Joker's hands, but of course he was completely helpless as the madman shoved the knife under Harley's throat and gripped her hair tightly.

He looked up and laughed directly into the camera, "So either the **Dark **_Knight _makes a special appearance, or pretty Harley dies tonight."

He burst out laughing, a horrible, dark laugh that was worse than any of his previous laughs combined. The redheaded woman reached forward and turned the camera off, shutting the laptop off and gathering her things, giving the Joker a quick glance and shaking her head.

"You're even more twisted than Scarecrow," she said. "That's kinda freaky." And with that, she turned and left the room, humming some random tune behind her, strangely unfazed by either of the deranged madmen she was leaving behind.

Immediately, Crane spun around and tugged the gag out of Reid's mouth before doing the same to Harley.

"That's what you want?" he looked annoyed and confused at the same time. "Batman to tell everyone he _didn't _kill the DA? What the hell is that going to do for us?"

The Joker grinned, "I _like _chaos,"

Crane scoffed and shook his head, "There's got to method to your madness,"

The Joker's eyes sparkled and shook his head as he left the room, dragging the chair Harley was in behind him. "Could there _really _be a method if there's no _**madness**_?"

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><p>Bruce stared at the television in shock, swallowing roughly as the Joker's words played over and over in his mind. He had to make the announcement tonight or Dr. Quinzel died. Then Dr. Reid. Then whoever else the Joker felt like killing.<p>

He threw the blanket back and nearly toppled the lunch that Alfred had brought him. The butler was able to stop it from shattering to the floor, but unable to stop Bruce from getting out of bed.

"Master Wayne, you're in no shape to go anywhere at the moment –"

"I can't just sit in bed and be responsible for the deaths of innocent people, Alfred. Not when I can stop it. Not without trying."

Alfred started to say something else, anything that might change Bruce's mind, but he could look in his eyes and see that there was nothing that was going to make him change his mind. He wasn't about to sit still when the Joker was threatening to raise the body count again.

"Just what are planning to do, Master Wayne?" he asked, "You said yourself, Gotham isn't ready for the truth and I doubt they'll listen to Batman any time soon."

Bruce nodded stiffly, already tugging a shirt on over his bruised and battered torso, "Then I'll find him, Alfred. I'll find him and I'll end this tonight. He's not killing anyone else, not while I'm here to stop him."

Alfred nodded understandingly and watched the younger man leave the room, gripping his side as he did. He stood there, alone, in the bedroom for a long moment, the television still going in the background as GCN newscasters regained control of their station and began trying to explain what had just happened.

He switched the set off and sank down onto the bed, feeling more tired than he had in a long time. Months of watching Bruce run out to risk his life had forced Alfred to adapt to seeing the young man in harm's way more often than not, but this was getting bigger than even Batman could handle. He just hoped the Joker wouldn't be the death of him.

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><p>"I wanna know how he hacked the news network!" Gordon barked as they all gathered back in the conference room, "There's nothing in his file that says he can go that!" He was still shaken from what had happened at the Press Conference. He was lucky not to have been burnt to a crisp by the fire the Joker had set.<p>

"Garcia's working on it now," Prentiss said, shaking her head. "He's got to have someone who knows there way around technology working with him. At least now we know where Reid and Dr. Quinzel are,"

"Yeah," Morgan muttered, "Trapped with that psychotic clown. Wonderful."

"We'll find them," Hotch said, "You said whoever took Reid disappeared over the bridge into the Narrows? That gives us something at least."

"So, what, you're going to search every empty warehouse and abandoned building in the Narrows, Agent?" Forsyth demanded.

"If we have to!" Morgan snapped, "We aren't just going to stand around while Reid and that doctor are in danger!"

Forsyth snorted, "That'll take days, Agent Morgan. In case you missed it, we don't have days! The Joker's already racked up a new body count to rival his last one, killed the Mayor and damn near killed Gordon too. We don't have any time to waste right now searching blind. You said your profile could find him, so far it's done jack-shit for the investigation!"

"HEY!" Hotch glared at the man, the room suddenly falling silent as he met his eyes. "You're angry and upset. You've lost a friend and this man is out there gunning to take more, but that's _my _man he's got and we are doing what we can to find them and save everyone else we can. The Joker's smart, he's not infallible. We can stop him, but you have got to let us do our jobs first."

Gordon pressed his lips together, "What we need is Batman," he said quietly. When everyone turned to give him shocked looks he just shook his head.

"You heard what that bastard said," he said, "He wants Batman to tell Gotham what happened. We've got to get him here and get him to tell the truth. It's the only way we might be able to save Dr. Quinzel and Agent Reid."

"No," Morgan shook his head, "Not the only way. We find this son of a bitch and this will all end. We aren't about bring in Batman and let him become his new target practice."

Hotch nodded, "Even if we could get him to agree to do this, do you really think your officers are going to allow a known fugitive to walk right up to a Press Conference and make an announcement?"

Gordon's jaw was tight, "Yes. They know what's at stake. Gotham wants the truth. When we're dealing with a psychopath like the Joker, we don't have a lot of options. We need Batman."

For once, Forsyth didn't seem to disagree, nodding slowly. "We do," he said, his acquiescence striking them all. "But how are we supposed to get him here tonight?"

"Leave that to me," Gordon said. "I know how to get in contact with him."

"What?"

"Don't," Hotch shook his head at the DA, "You want Batman, we'll get him. But this isn't going to end well. The Joker's playing games with us now. We need to find him before things get worse."

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><p>Crane was quiet after the Joker left, but Reid felt his eyes on him. Studying him. Reid had read the Crane file as well as the Joker file. He knew almost everything there was to know about the former psychiatrist and it all added up to the profile of a very sad, disturbed and probably deluded individual.<p>

He hadn't always been that way, of course, and Reid was pretty sure that a lot of Crane's issues came from his exposure to his own drug prior to his imprisonment in Arkham. It hadn't been enough to drive Crane totally out of his mind like he'd done to Falcone, but it had certainly been enough to alter his perception of things.

"You're… you're Dr. Jonathan Crane, right?" Reid's voice sounded small and timid to his own ears, a fact that he hated, but decided to use to his advantage at the moment. Crane would be far more likely to talk to him if he sounded like he was intimidated by the man.

Slowly, Crane turned around entirely and faced Reid, his large eyes fixed on him with an intensity that rivaled the Joker's. Reid fought not to squirm under the gaze and pressed his lips together nervously.

"The one and only," Crane said, a smile twitching his lips.

Reid nodded, "I've read some of your research," he said quietly.

Crane's eyes lit up and his smile twisted a bit, "You have? Well, that's flatter, _Dr. _Reid. I've been reading some of the articles you wrote. You're quite the genius, aren't you?"

Reid breathed in and out slowly, nodded. Relate to him. He thought. Just relate to him. He'll open up and talk. Maybe give something away about the Joker, maybe decide to break away from the clown's plans. Anything would be helpful at this point.

"I could say the same thing about you," he said. "You're brilliant."

Crane just nodded, already knowing that to be a fact. He was a genius, there was no point in denying it.

"So…" Reid stumbled over his next sentence for a second, "How did you become… Scarecrow. It doesn't seem like something a smart man would do. Drug dealer?"

Crane's eyes flashed and he leaned forward, "I find the human mind to be a fascinating place, Dr. Reid. So many ways to push and shove and snap it completely," his smile twisted, "And once they kicked me out of Arkham for my little… experiments I had to find something to do with myself, didn't I? Besides… drug dealer," he motioned to himself, "Drug addict," he motioned to Reid. "Almost a poetic sort of symmetry, don't you think?"

Reid frowned, "How did you –"

"I told you, I've been doing my own research. On you. You fascinate me, Dr. Reid. Such a brilliant mind. You could do anything and yet you're running around with the FBI like some common pig."

"I like helping people,"

"There are other ways to help people," Crane smirked.

"Fighting bad guys,"

"Like me?"

"Sometimes,"

Crane grinned, "But Dr. Reid, I seriously doubt you've ever met someone like me in all your years as an FBI agent." His eyes sparkled like the Joker's for a second, only with a different light.

"Have you ever seen my mask?"

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>"The Joker can't just hack into the news right?" Bruce was standing in the Archives department again, across from Lucius Fox. He had his arm wrapped tight around his sort midsection, but he wasn't going to waste a single second. He had to track the Joker down before tonight, otherwise innocent blood would be on his hands.<p>

"He's never done it before," Fox said, "But that doesn't mean he can't find someone who can."

Bruce sighed, "Can you trace the signal to where it came from?"

"I can try," Fox looked a little uncertain, "But if they can hack a TV network like that, they're probably smart enough to know how to cover their tracks. I'll see what I can find though."

Bruce nodded, "Get anything on Napier?"

"I got a lot on him," Fox nodded, "Lost his job and his pregnant wife in the same week. Went missing, was attacked. He had some drug in his system that Gotham General had never seen before. I'm betting it was Dr. Crane's fear-drug, or at least, an early version of it."

Bruce frowned thoughtfully, "And this guy becomes the Joker. That explains a lot."

"Mhm. What I haven't found is anything about his scars. He must not have gone to the hospital for that,"

"Alright," Bruce sighed, "Work on tracing the signal. I'm going to search the Narrows."

"Like that?"

Bruce smirked, "Well, Bruce Wayne is a bit less conspicuous than Batman, isn't he?"

Lucius smiled, laughing a bit, "Not in the Narrows, Mr. Wayne. Batman has a better chance blending in down there than you do."

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: **I know, I know. Compared to the others this chapter was SUPER short. I mean, about average length for my usual chapters but way shorter than the ones I've been churning out on this fic. Sorry guys. My muse died and when to Supernatural hell (with Dean) and refused to listen to me, I had to force this chapter out and hated making you wait another second for an update. Hopefully the next chapter will be much longer and faster. *crosses fingers*

Also, I haven't seen Dark Knight Rises yet (cannot wait though!) so DON'T SPOIL IT FOR ME if you have. ;)

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter. Again, sorry for the wait, sorry for the shorter length. Please review!


	15. The Dominoes Fall

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N:** So I know this chapter is unforgivably late. I have excuses though! Well, an excuse. Supernatural seasons 5-7. Seriously, that's what I was doing with my time. I got majorly distracted and I apologize. That was rude of me and I won't happen again. Mostly because at the moment I'm in an emotional coma of sorts. Honestly would not recommend mainlining Supernatural like that. Ever.

Anyway, thanks so much for all of the awesome reviews guys! You're all amazing and I really appreciate your support on this! Please forgive me for the lateness of the update.

And now, chapter 15! Read with caution. This is where things get dark.

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><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen: The Dominoes Fall<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_"Alright," Bruce sighed, "Work on tracing the signal. I'm going to search the Narrows."_

_"Like that?"_

_Bruce smirked, "Well, Bruce Wayne is a bit less conspicuous than Batman, isn't he?"_

_Lucius smiled, laughing a bit, "Not in the Narrows, Mr. Wayne. Batman has a better chance blending in down there than you do."_

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><p>Reid cringed when Crane snapped the rubber tourniquet around his arm and smiled at him, his eyes dancing. He was barely holding himself together at this point, trying to glean any useful information he could from the former psychiatrist, but Crane wasn't giving an inch. Reid almost found himself wishing the Joker would show up again, at least then he'd have a lower probability of being drugged.<p>

The needle Crane produced glinted in the dim light and Reid swallowed roughly, twisting in his bindings.

"What's in that?" he asked, his voice remarkably steady despite the given circumstances. He wanted nothing more than to scream and thrash and cry, but he wasn't going to let himself break down when there were so many lives at stake. He had to keep it together if he wanted to make it out of this alive and see that as many of Gotham's citizens did too.

Crane's eyes sparkled, "Just a new recipe," he said calmly, his voice soft and soothing. Like a teacher explaining something to his student. "I find psycho-pharmaceuticals to be such a fascinating subject, don't you, Dr. Reid? There are so many untouched horizons. So many new ways to push the human mind."

The needle was getting closer and closer to Reid as he spoke and it took ever nerve in Reid's body not to flinch as flashbacks of those terrible nights in Tobias' cabin assaulted his memory. This was one place he did not want to be.

"Just relax, Doctor," Crane crooned, the needle pressing against the inside of his elbow, not breaking skin yet as Crane's long fingers rolled over the veins in his arm and he smiled brightly. "This won't be so bad. You've already experienced what my Fear Toxin can do to you. Trust me, this won't be that bad…"

The man's reassurances did nothing at all to soothe Reid's nerves and he shook his head, "You really think this is a good idea?" he asked, pulling his arm back as far as he could from the needle. "The Joker didn't seem too happy you took me."

Crane smirked, "Well he can whine all he wants," he said, "I've got nothing better to do while he sits around waiting for Batman…"

"Why does he want to kill the Batman so badly?" the words tumbled out of Reid's mouth quickly, in a jumbled rush, but it was enough to make Crane smile and pulled the needle back for a moment.

"He doesn't,"

"What?" Reid's brows scrunched together as he stared at Crane, "Then why –"

"Now, personally, that nightmare of a vigilante can rot in Hell for all I care. He tore down everything for me and I'd like nothing more than to watch him squirm and beg for his life, but our psychotic friend… He doesn't want Batman dead. He wants to toy with him. Haven't you noticed? Batman's his favorite playmate."

"So why are you two working together?" Reid asked, "You want different things."

Crane smiled, "No. We both want Gotham in flames," he said easily, "It's just the methods that vary. Me, I have a method. The Joker… he enjoys more… random acts of destruction." The man's eyes were twinkling with something that was borderline madness. Reid realized that was what was so unsettling about Crane. He could so easily appear to be an average human being at any given time, but there was just that faintest little hint of wrong in his eyes and in his smile that gave him away.

"Now, hold still, Doctor," Crane said gently, the needle pushing right up against his elbow again, "Don't want any unnecessary damage."

"Wait -!" Reid tried to jerk back, but Crane had a good grip on his arm now, holding him still as he pushed the plunger on the syringe down and Reid's veins were flooded with whatever the Scarecrow had decided to experiment with.

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>"Anything?" Hotch asked, his dark eyes boring into Gordon as the Commissioner sat at his desk, cell phone in hand, frowning in frustration.<p>

"No, nothing," Gordon said, "He doesn't usually reply to me anyway. He just sends messages. He had to have seen the news this morning; he knows what's at stake."

It had been a couple of hours since the Joker had somehow managed to hack into the GCN network and make his demands known to all of Gotham. The city was buzzing with people trying to figure out what the big secret was about Dent's death. The general consensus seemed to be that Batman had murdered the DA, but that was nothing new to them. Gotham had been spreading that rumor since Dent's untimely demise.

Hotch wondered how the city was going to react to the actual truth. That Dent had went off the rails, that Rachel Dawes' death had sent him on a vengeful murder spree that almost ended in the death of Jim Gordon's son. That, really, the Joker had won and his point had stood. Anyone is capable of anything if you know how to push them. None of them were really any better than he was, when you got right down to it.

Hotch, of course, didn't believe that for a second. Harvey Dent had been a man stricken with grief and driven to the point of insanity with vengeance. Thinking about what Dent had lost, what the Joker had put him through, Hotch wasn't all that surprised that he had lost it. Maybe, hopefully, Gotham would be able to see that as well. This had nothing to do with the Joker winning or proving any point. It had everything to do with a man driven mad with loss.

The backlash, however, of the truth coming out, was going to be huge. The appeals from convicted criminals Dent had put away, the sheer amount of paperwork and cleanup that they were going to be required to do… Hotch understood why this was so difficult for Gordon to do. They were about to lose several months of hard work, hundreds of dangerous criminals could potentially be released.

"He'll call," Gordon was staring down at his phone, fingers hovering over the keypad. He looked uncertain and anxious and Hotch couldn't help but empathize for the other man.

"Hey," Morgan ducked his head into the office, looking between his boss and Gordon, "Anything?"

"Not yet," Hotch shook his head.

"Where the hell is he?" Morgan scowled, "It's been hours. He had to have heard the news by now."

"It's still daylight," Hotch pointed out, "Batman doesn't come out until it's dark."

"He's not actually nocturnal," Morgan said, "Whoever he is, he wouldn't be able to pull that life off without someone noticing. So where the hell is he? He just decides to step out now? When we actually need him?"

Gordon snorted, "Son, we always need Batman's help. It's just a question of whether or not we deserve it and honestly, most of the time, we don't."

Morgan's jaw was tight and he shook his head, "I'm not sitting around on my ass, Hotch. I want to be out there looking for Reid before this psycho decides to slit his throat just for the hell of it."

"You're not going anywhere," Hotch told him, "Not with that arm."

Morgan glanced down at the cast around his arm and then looked back up at Hotch, "I'm not leaving Reid out there by himself, Hotch. We've got to do something! We've got to find him!"

"We will," Hotch assured him, "But you're not going out in the field like that. We've got people in the Narrows now. We'll get Reid back, Morgan."

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>The Narrows looked even worse than the last time Bruce had been there. At least during the day. At night, it was easy to miss a lot of the damage that had been done by Crane's drug. The Narrows had been almost entirely destroyed that night, so many lives lost, buildings burned to the ground. They were still reeling from the attack even now and the feeling of abandonment and hopelessness seemed to permeate the air.<p>

Lucius had been right about him standing out in the Narrows. The Prince of Gotham certainly didn't blend very well with the background out here in the most rundown section of Gotham. He'd taken a cab out of sheer logistical necessity. If he'd taken any of the cars he owned there would be no way he was getting into the Narrows without some news crew showing up. Even in times of fear like this, Bruce Wayne was still a noteworthy story to tell.

He kept his head down as he walked the cracked and dirty sidewalks, eyeing shops and buildings. Most people brushed by him without looking too hard, but he could see that look in their eyes anyway. Who was he, walking down these streets in those expensive clothes? What was he doing there?

Even now that it had been blown to pieces, Arkham still dominated the far view on the island. Usually and intimidating and large focal point, it was a dark smudge on the horizon. Yet the hospital still sent a strange set of chills down Bruce's spine.

He'd only been inside Arkham a few times personally and every time it set him on edge. There was just something about the place that made him, and most people, uncomfortable. Even the inmates felt that strange presence in the Asylum. Like something hovering over them, always watching, waiting to suck away whatever was left of their sanity.

The first place Bruce looked was the warehouse section that had been set on fire. Police tape still roped off the area and there was a GCPD squad car sitting near the mouth of the alley. Bruce got as close as he dared without drawing the cop's attention and looked down the dark street. They'd cleared the body and pretty much everything from the narrow space and there didn't appear to be anything left to see.

He doubted the Joker would be staying in another warehouse. He was insane but he certainly wasn't stupid. The police were searching every abandoned storage room and warehouse in the Narrows. The Joker would've moved to a more secure location by now which meant Bruce needed to look somewhere else.

There was an overabundance of cops in the Narrows that day, searching for the missing FBI agent and Dr. Quinzel. Bruce greeted them all with ease, smiling and nodding pleasantly and marveling at how strange it felt to see the police and not have to duck into the shadows and avoid being caught. Of course, he wasn't Batman right now, he was Bruce Wayne and Bruce Wayne had absolutely no reason to fear the police.

He wasn't entirely sure where to start, but he headed to places he was most familiar with. The drug corners and meth houses, anywhere he remembered Crane doing business. He was coming up short everywhere. There was no sign of the Joker anywhere and it wasn't as if Bruce Wayne could beat the truth out of anyone. He was almost to the point where he'd decided to just come back at dusk and have a more thorough look when he was nearly toppled to the ground by a terrified young woman.

Straightening quickly and grabbing her shoulders to steady her balance, Bruce brushed the woman's messy hair from her face and froze, eyes widening as he stared at her.

"Dr. Quinzel?"

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>Reid felt like he was burning from the inside out, like his insides were on fire and no matter how many times he blinked his eyes the world around him flickered with flames and the shadows came to life with glowing red eyes and terrible, dark laughter.<p>

Crane had shoved the gag back into his mouth to keep him from crying out so any noises he made came out muffled protests instead of screams and pleas for the nightmare to end. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a voice telling him that this was all brought on by the drug, but that didn't help Reid separate fiction from reality at the moment. Everything he was seeing looked real, it all felt real.

Even now, he wasn't sure which of the shadows was Crane, though he was guessing it was the one telling him to relax and spouting nonsense scientific terms. Nothing made any sense in this world, the facts and statistics that usually tumbled out of his head were gone, the case file, everything.

Suddenly, another shape appeared a shadow at first, but with a glowing white face and empty pits where the eyes should have been. This one scared Reid more than the others that he was seeing. He could only just make out the distorted, awful voice as the new shadow began to scream and another one – the one Reid assumed was Crane – argued back.

He could only pick up every few words of what was being said, but he was certain he'd heard the name Harley and the word escape. Then there was something about an antidote, but he was lost after that. Still, somewhere in the back of his mind he was certain that Harley and escape was a good thing, though he couldn't quite figure out why.

The white faced, eyeless monster stormed out of the room and the one Reid thought was Crane turned back to him, muttering swears. Reid felt a tiny prick, which was nothing compared to the burning he was feeling, and then suddenly the flames began to die and the fire inside him cooled down. Before he really had a chance to marvel at finally feeling at ease, the now flame-less world around him began to dim and then went entirely black.

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>"And you think it'll work?" Crane seemed skeptical as he followed the Joker out of the office. Dr. Reid was still screaming into his gag, but he'd been fine in a moment or two. Right now, they had far more important things to worry about.<p>

The Joker's dark eyes were still lit with rage, but he nodded anyway. "Of course it'll work, Jonny Boy!" he insisted. "I know _Harley dearest_. They'll be here."

"What about Dr. Reid?" Crane said, "We can't just keep him here."

The Joker grinned and tilted his head, "So we _move _him," he said, "… And, Doc?" Suddenly Crane found himself pinned against the wall, knife pressed against his throat. He met the Joker's dark eyes and glared resentfully back at him, but didn't bother to struggle in the man's grip.

"If you _break _him he isn't going to be a very _en-ter-tain-ing _playmate, now is he?"

Crane hissed and rolled his eyes, "It'll take more than that to break him," he said, "He's got a strong mind."

The Joker smiled and stepped back, eyeing the blade of his knife intently, "Don't _touch, _Doc. Them's the rules,"

Crane muttered something under his breath, but didn't go back toward the office where Dr. Reid was being held anyway. At least now they had what vaguely resembled a plan. He thought the plan was insane, but it was a plan at least and the effects would certainly prove to be… interesting.

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>"Dr. Quinzel!"<p>

Bruce was frozen for a moment as he stared at the young woman. Her hair was a bit wild, eyes anxiously moving around in her skull, darting to every corner, hands shaking. He could see bruises on her wrists where she'd been tied up and swallowed roughly, taking hold of her hands gingerly.

"Are you alright?"

Her eyes finally settled on him and near popped out of her skull, "Bruce Wayne! You're…"

"I know," he brushed off her shock and tugged her gently down the street, "Come on, Doctor, we need to get you to the hospital…"

"NO!" She grabbed his shit and pulled him back, "No hospitals. No. I… I need to speak to the police. Commissioner Gordon. I know where the Joker is!"

Bruce's eyes widened and he gripped her wrists tightly, forgetting for a moment that he was still Bruce Wayne and not Batman. "Where is he? Can you show me?"

Harley's eyes flashed for just a moment and then settled back to the terrified blue orbs that they'd been a moment ago, her hands shaking as she gripped Bruce's sleeve and watching his intense gaze falter for a moment. But she'd caught the flash anyway and Bruce's brows scrunched with confusion when a tiny smile claimed her features. In his mind, Batman was telling him to drag her right to the police station, but neither Batman nor Bruce Wayne saw the needle before they felt its pinch in the side of their arm and the world began tilting downward.

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>Morgan tapped his fingers restlessly against the table and glared at the clock. Nearly three in the afternoon and still no word yet from Batman. What was he doing that was so important he couldn't respond to Gordon's texts? That he couldn't show up to help Gotham City and stop the madman that was terrorizing the city?<p>

"That's it," Morgan muttered, shoving himself to his feet and heading toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Prentiss was the first one on her feet, eyeing her friend skeptically as he turned the knob.

"To get some air," he grunted. "I can't take sitting around here like there's nothing we can be doing."

"We're doing what we can," JJ pointed out. "We'll find Reid, we just –"

"I'm done being patient!" Morgan snapped, scowling around at them. "Reid's out there, stuck with two psychopaths and all we're doing is sitting here on our asses. Excuse me for thinking that there might be something more productive we could be doing."

He turned and slammed the door closed. He didn't hear Prentiss come up behind him, but jerked away from her when she put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not in the mood to talk right now, Emily," he said, his voice dark and annoyed.

Prentiss sighed and shook her head, "Good, neither am I. And I also think you're a stupid, reckless idiot, but if you're going to be stupid, at least be smart enough to not go out in the Narrows alone, huh? Especially with your arm."

Morgan snorted and turned to face her, smiling a bit, "Are you offering to tag along?"

"And make sure you don't get yourself killed? Yes. Seeing how I can't convince you to go back in there and sit on your ass, anyway,"

"Damn right you can't," Morgan said, "I'm through sitting around, Prentiss."

"Then let's go find Reid,"

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>Bruce woke up with a banging headache and grimaced, Batman noting everything about the room they were in. Small. No windows, one way of escape. One desk, two chairs. His hands were tied tightly behind his back, cutting the circulation off. Add those new bruises to his long list of bruises. Sitting in the chair opposite him was an unconscious Dr. Reid.<p>

Great. So Harley must've drugged him. How had she managed to get him here without anyone seeing though? He must've been close to the Joker's hideout. She had to have had help. Even though the street was empty, he seriously doubted petite little Dr. Quinzel couldn't lugged his unconscious body down the sidewalk.

Well, being a prisoner was new. And worse, he wasn't even Batman, he was just Bruce Wayne. He could imagine that the Joker would enjoy having such a powerful bargaining chip in his corner, but now there was no way Batman was going to come to the rescue since Batman just so happened to be tied up where the Joker was hiding.

He tugged at the ropes around his wrists and grunted in annoyance when they didn't even budge. The rough material scratched at his skin, but that was about it. He was truly and thoroughly fucked as far as he could tell.

The door suddenly burst open and the face that had haunted his nightmares was suddenly there, smiling that creepy grin at him, dark eyes shining with some horrible glee.

"_Brucey!"_ he said excitedly, "You and me have just _got _to talk!"

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>Prentiss sighed and slipped her phone back onto her belt, "Hotch isn't happy, Morgan," she said, "He wants us back at the station now."<p>

"We've come this far," Morgan insisted. "We can search a couple more places. The warehouse fire last night was near where Crane used to set up shop with his drug business, right? Let's start there. There's got to be something that'll lead us to the Joker."

Prentiss pressed her lips together and nodded slowly, "Fine, but if we don't turn anything up there, we're going back to the station and you're apologizing to Hotch."

Morgan grinned at bit, "Don't worry, Emily, I'll take all the heat, alright? We'll be fine."

Prentiss eyed his broken arm and then the hand holding his glock. "We'd better be. You're not exactly going to be the best back up, you know? Maybe you should just let me go search and you wait out on the street?"

Morgan raised a brow and lifted his gun, "Broken backup is better than no backup,"

The warehouse was still cordoned off with police tape, but after a couple of words with the officer on guard, they slipped beneath the tape and toward what was left of the warehouse. The entire place had been nearly burned to the ground; there wasn't much left for them to find except ashes and rubble. Certainly nothing that could lead them to where the Joker was.

"C'mon, Morgan, this is a waste of time," Prentiss insisted, "We should –"

"Wait!" Morgan hissed and jerked his gun toward the apartment building on the opposite side. Prentiss froze and followed his eyes, frowning when she spotted a face disappear behind a curtain.

"He was watching us," Prentiss said.

"Look familiar to you?" Morgan glanced over at his partner and she frowned, shaking her head.

"That was one of Crane's men," he said, "We were just looking over that file when we left, remember?"

Slowly, Prentiss nodded. She'd only gotten a glimpse of the man's face, but he had looked vaguely familiar to her. "You call, Hotch," she said, "Let him know we might've found something. I'll go in…"

"Not alone,"

"Morgan, shut up and make the call. I'm just going to knock on the door. If he answers, we'll try to talk. If he doesn't, we wait to see what Hotch wants us to do. Got it?"

Morgan holstered his gun and shook his head, not liking this at all as he called Hotch to tell him what they'd found. Or, who, rather. Prentiss disappeared into the apartment building and Morgan kept his eyes on the window as he talked to Hotch. Hotch insisted that if Prentiss got nowhere, they were to wait for GCPD to arrive. The nearest unit, aside from the officer guarding the fire site, was a couple of blocks away. It wouldn't take them more than a couple of minutes to show up.

At least that eased Morgan's nerves a bit, but he was uncomfortable hanging back while Prentiss was up there alone and found himself edging toward the apartment building, eyes still on the window. The curtain hadn't moved since he spotted the guy. Morgan's gut twisted and then he heard it.

The sound of gun shots, several of them, and a scream that sounded far too much like Prentiss.

He yanked his gun out of his holster and charged into the building, ignoring the people who had come out of their apartments to see what was going on. He took the stairs two at a time and nearly stumbled into a thin, wiry man who was racing down.

Recognizing him immediately, Morgan didn't waste time getting off a clean shot to the guy's knee, sending him down quickly. He managed to kick the man's gun out of his hands as he tumbled down the steps and landed in a heap, not moving, blood pooling from the gunshot wound.

He didn't stand there too long, racing up the stair, hand shaking around the glock.

"Emily!" he was calling out her name, looking around the halls until he spotted her. Lying on her back outside an open apartment door, not moving. There was blood pooling around her, but he couldn't see the wound from where he was standing. Her hair tumbled out over her face and he edged his way to her, heart pounding.

"Emily…" his voice was choked, but felt a bit of relief when he realized she was bleeding from her shoulder. Maybe she'd just been knocked unconscious from the fall. "Oh, thank God, Emily…"

He knelt next to her and gingerly turned her over, surprised at the amount of blood and trying not to cringe away as he pushed her hair away from her face and look down at her.

His stomach tightened and he dropped the gun, forgetting how to breathe as he stared down at her and it slowly clicked why there was so much blood. Prentiss' eyes were wide open and glazed over, she wasn't moving, she wasn't breathing.

And right between her eyes was a neat, circular bullet wound.

Morgan didn't even realize he was crying as he gripped her limp body tightly and sobs choked out of him lips.

"Oh God… No, no, no, no, no, no. Emily!"

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: **I would like to point out, once more, that I DID warn you this was going to be dark and realistic.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go watch Children of Earth. If I don't come back it's because I've died of an angst overdose.

*runs and hides* DON'T KILL ME!


	16. Ripping Away the Masks

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T (for now, may increase later…)

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **As always, many thanks to you wonderful, amazing, supporting reviewers! You guys are what keeps me motivated to write this. And also, I'm really, really glad that most of you don't hate me for Prentiss' death. I will warn you, her death was the tipping point. Things are going to get dark, just remember that. I warned you.

Also, I'm SO, SO sorry for the wait. The fall semester started back last week and I've been extremely busy – my professors seem to believe in shocking me back into the routine with a ton of homework and tests. The good news is I have finished "Demons Run" giving me a bit more time to devote to writing this and "Armageddon", but that's not saying much with classes back in session so please continue to be patient with me.

Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter and thank you all for your support!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen: Ripping Away the Masks<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_And right between her eyes was a neat, circular bullet wound._

_Morgan didn't even realize he was crying as he gripped her limp body tightly and sobs choked out of him lips._

_"Oh God… No, no, no, no, no, no. Emily!"_

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><p>The numbness was spreading throughout his entire body as he stood outside of the scene, watching with disbelieving eyes as the body bag was zipped all the way around and lifted away. He felt something inside of him break, eyes watery and burning, though he couldn't be sure what hurt the most at the moment. Hotch and the rest of the team, along with Gordon, had been notified already and Morgan had taken himself off the case, telling Hotch it was what he should've done in the first place.<p>

_"You know this isn't your fault, Morgan,"_

_"I know, Hotch, I…" his voice had broken, hand rubbing across his face to stop the next onslaught of tears and sobs. This was just not happening. It couldn't possibly be happening. "I'm down and arm, useless in the field and… definitely letting my emotions get in the way. I'll…I'll meet you at the hotel."_

That had been fifteen minutes ago and he still hadn't managed to move his legs from the spot he seemed to be rooted to on the street. He just didn't know what to do. The team was staying on the case, now more determined than ever to find the Joker and Crane and they now had an ace up their sleeve. The bastard who'd shot Prentiss was one of Crane's men. He was already on his way to county lockup where Gordon could question him.

And still no word from the goddam Batman.

Morgan scowled, anger briefly flaring up inside of him towards the vigilante. He didn't know why, but it felt easier to blame Batman than himself. Guilt still gnawed at his gut, that bitter voice in his head telling him that if he'd just stayed at the station like he was supposed to, none of this would have happened. If he'd just listened to Prentiss when she said it was time to go, none of this would've happened. If he'd listened to instincts and not let her go up there alone, he might have been able to save her.

But it was too fucking late for that now. Prentiss was lying on a gurney in the back of an ambulance, zipped into a body bag and being taken to the fucking morgue. And it was all his fault.

This time he didn't manage to stop the sob that escaped his throat, but he did finally force his frozen limbs into movement. He brushed passed the EMTs and officers who were on the scene – _two minutes too late _– and started walking, heading in the general direction of the bridge, dark eyes scanning the streets for a cab. He didn't look back as he left the ambulance behind, didn't answer his phone when it started buzzing again after two blocks of aimless walking. He just shoved his good hand into his pocket, tucked his broken arm close to his chest, kept his eyes on the ground and walked.

Eventually, he was sure to end up somewhere and at the moment, _anywhere _was better than back there.

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><p>Bruce hedged away from the Joker, hissing a bit as the ropes around his wrists tugged at his skin. He did his best to put on a scared face – admittedly, it wasn't all that hard given the amount of time the clown faced murderer starred in his nightmares – and met the madman's dark eyes, almost getting lost in the madness that he could see in them.<p>

The Joker's painted lips twitched a bit and he tilted his head to the side in a manner so like that of a curious dog who'd found a new toy. It was unnerving the amount of innocence the Joker managed to mimic with almost perfect sincerity. His greasepaint face was too close for comfort and his yellow teeth made Bruce's stomach curl as he broke out into a full-on grin and a sudden fit of giggles overcame him.

It was almost surreal to be sitting here, the Joker inches away from him, and to be totally unable to do anything. Any other time he'd been this close to the Joker, he'd been throwing punches, taking hits, dodging knives… Anything but sitting in relative, unharmed silence.

"Oh, Brucey," the Joker leaned back a little bit, giving him some small comfort in the minimal distance, "You're not doing a very good job, ya know,"

Blinking, confusion settled across the billionaire features as he studied the clown and for a moment, he almost forgot who was supposed to be and growled his response. He caught himself just in time, however, and did his best to make his voice quiet and scared. He didn't have to make it confused; he was already confused as hell.

"…A good job at what?"

The Joker's dark eyes gleamed as he laughed again, but the sound was less hysterical, more… sinister. Bruce wasn't sure why, but it made his stomach feel a bit hollow as he studied him.

"At being _Bruce Wayne,_"

And there went every thought in Bruce's head. Every calculation, every possible plan, ever note on the Joker's behavior, every possible lead to what he plan might be. Everything, wiped out entirely by those four words and the horrible, frightening implication of what they meant.

_Play dumb! _Batman's voice screamed in his head, forcing him to relax, to calm down. Maybe he meant something entirely different. Maybe he was talking about… anything other than what Bruce feared he was talking about. He forced himself not to react beyond the fractional widening of his eyes and the confused look that clouded his face now.

"I don't… understand?" his words were slow and clumsy, brows furrowed over his eyes. Looking for all the world like a confused child. Well, all the world except the Joker, who apparently saw right through the act and found the entire situation to be absolutely hilarious judging from his new fit of giggles.

The Joker leaned forward and Bruce leaned as far back as he possibly could, looking away from the intensely dark eyes. He heard a low groan and his eyes flew to the other occupant in the room, realizing that Agent Reid was slowly regaining consciousness now.

"I _mean_, Brucey, that you're just not very good at keeping… _secrets. _All those _nightly ex-cur-sions _of yours, hmm? Not doing a good job hiding behind that _mask."_

All the blood drained from Bruce's face and he swallowed roughly, muscles twitching a bit, longing to be free of his bindings. He didn't even know what he'd do if he was free, but he was certain he did not want to sit here and listen to the Joker tell him that he knew who he really was. This could _not_ be happening.

Again, he decided playing dumb was still his best option. Maybe if he pretended enough, the Joker would think he was wrong. Maybe the Joker was hinting at something entirely different. Bruce didn't even want to consider the possibility that he'd somehow managed to find out his identity. The things a man like the Joker could do with that information were catastrophic.

"…Mask?"

The Joker sighed and sat back, "This is getting _annoying,_ Brucey," he said, his voice edging toward serious in a way that made Bruce want to cringe in fear. But the Batman part of him wouldn't allow that.

"Ya know," the Joker mused, tilting his head again, thoughtfully, "_Everyone _wears masks, Brucey, but _yours?_ Yours is my _favorite _mask."

"What mask?" Bruce pressed, eyes hard and fingers tight as he twisted his wrists, trying desperately to break free of his bounds and wishing for a weapon. Any weapon, really, to do damage to the man in front of him. To make him _shut the fuck up. _He did not want to hear this.

The Joker's eyes sparkled and he leaned forward again, pressing his lips so close to Bruce's ear he could feel the hot breath brushing against his skin, making him will away the urge to vomit as he edged himself away from it.

"_Bruce Wayne," _he whispered the name, threateningly, hauntingly. Something inside of Bruce broke as the Joker leaned back, grinning like a maniac, "**That** is your mask, Brucey. I'm looking at it right now. And it's clever, _very clever. _But I can see _right. Through. It. _You're not Bruce Wayne, are ya, Brucey? Not really."

The muscles in Bruce's jaw flexed a bit, "Then who am I?" his voice was unintentionally hard as he stared at the Joker.

The Joker giggled a bit, like he'd been waiting for him to ask that exact question, eyes lighting up like the fourth of July as he clapped his purple gloved hands together, "Who are you?" he parroted, "Who _are _you? Oh, Brucey, you're just too much! You… are my _favorite _playmate, Brucey."

His smile suddenly dropped and he hunched over, locking eyes with Bruce, eyes flashing with something emotion Bruce couldn't quite place, "You… are the Batman."

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><p><strong>AN: **And yes, I ended it there. As many of you seem to believe, I _am _rather fond of cliffhangers. It's annoying, but I don't really care.

I'm sorry this chapter is so much shorter than usual. I hate skimming on length, I much prefer giving you guys the longer chapters, but I HAD to post something because it's been over two weeks and it was unfair to you guys who are actually following to make you wait longer.

So consider this a short little interlude chapter. I am working on chapter 17 and am putting it on priority above the next "Armageddon" chapter. It will be up by this weekend if I can manage it. Please forgive me.

And please review!


	17. Heads I Win, Tales You Lose

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **So, like I promised, this chapter is up in relatively speedy time! Yay for me being all awesome, lol. JK. Anyway, again, thank you to all of the wonderful reviewers! You guys are still amazing and I love you all and appreciate your support. And once more, sorry for the shorter chapter last chapter. I hated giving you such a sad excuse for a chapter, but I wanted to at least give you SOMETHING.

And now, here's a proper chapter for you guys! Hope you enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen: Heads I Win, Tales You Lose<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_The muscles in Bruce's jaw flexed a bit, "Then who am I?" his voice was unintentionally hard as he stared at the Joker._

_The Joker giggled a bit, like he'd been waiting for him to ask that exact question, eyes lighting up like the fourth of July as he clapped his purple gloved hands together, "Who are you?" he parroted, "Who are you? Oh, Brucey, you're just too much! You… are my favorite playmate, Brucey."_

_His smile suddenly dropped and he hunched over, locking eyes with Bruce, eyes flashing with something emotion Bruce couldn't quite place, "You… are the Batman."_

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><p>The mood in the conference had shifted dramatically from tense and poised for action to grim and silent. Gordon could tell the agents were doing their best to keep focusing on the case, but they would have much rather had a moment to allow the news of their fellow agent's death to sink in. They were down three men in as many days. Agent Morgan had refused to come back to the station and they hadn't heard from him in a couple of hours. Agent Reid was being held captive by the Joker and with no word from the Batman yet, things did not look good for the young man. Things were bad enough with the death of a friend hanging over their heads as well.<p>

Gordon had offered to take the case over once more, though by now he'd come to respect the agents and certainly didn't mind their assistance, it was clear that they deserved to step back for a while. Hotchner had refused, a dark determination glinting in his eyes. They were _going _to get the Joker and save Agent Reid and he wasn't going to let him send them away scared. They'd been dealt harsh blows in the past and they could handle this now.

"We haven't heard anything from the Batman," Hotch said, "We're going to have to assume he's MIA. That doesn't leave us with any real options. The Joker wants Batman, or Dr. Quinzel and Reid die."

"So we find the Joker before tonight's over," Rossi said, "That's all we can do."

"That's what we will do," JJ agreed, "He's in the Narrows, we know that much. What we need to figure out is the where."

Gordon frowned thoughtfully, "Agent Reid said something about looking in Dr. Crane. Crane's entire operation was set up in the Narrows; he spent a lot of time with Carmine Falcone before he was locked away in Arkham. If they're working together…"

"Maybe the Joker's in one of the old Falcone meeting places or family homes," Hotch said, "It's a start. JJ, call Garcia."

"Where are you going?" JJ frowned when Hotch unclipped his cell phone from his side and stepped out into the hall.

"To call Morgan,"

The blond agent nodded somberly, her lips set in a thin line on her face. Her eyes were still red with the tears that hadn't really had the chance to spill over yet. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't let herself break down just yet, not when there was still so much to do.

"Gordon, Rossi, try talking to the guy we brought in," Hotch added. "He's had a couple hours to sit on things. He should be ready to talk by now."

He didn't wait for a response, turning and stepping out of the room, phone pressed to his head as he walked down the hall. JJ sighed when she was left in the room alone as the two men left. Her fingers were shaking a bit when she dialed Garcia's familiar number and she hated the way the technical analyst didn't greet her with the usual perky, upbeat greeting that made her smile.

_"Hey,"_

JJ took a deep breath and, still forcing tears away and shook her head to clear her thoughts. The case. Focus on the case. Reid was still out there. Reid still needed them.

"Hey, Pen," her voice was heavy, more so than it had been with Hotch and the others moments earlier. She could allow herself to crack just a little bit with Garcia and she hated to admit that it was a relief to be able to let some of the emotions out. Holding it in just made it hurt more.

"We, uh, we're narrowing down the Joker's locations in the Narrows. He's working with Crane, so we think he might be staying in one of the old Falcone family homes. Could you run a search and find out what Falcone homes are still abandoned out there?"

_"Shouldn't be too hard," _Garcia said and again JJ missed the usual sweet, bubbly, confident Garcia comebacks. _"I'll call you as soon as I have a list."_

She nodded, "Thanks, Garcia,"

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><p>Gordon and Rossi headed for the interrogation rooms with similar looks in their eyes. Both men wanted to break the man in the small interview room, for very similar reasons. A silent conversation passed between the two veterans before they slipped inside and eyed the small, ratty looking man up and down. He was fidgeting in his seat, one leg stuck on from under the table, pants leg cut off above the knee to reveal a thick, blood stained bandage.<p>

The shot Morgan had gotten off that had sent the man down had only been a flesh wound, barely deep enough to cause any damage and certainly of no real danger. But it had been enough to knock him out of commission long enough for the cops and ambulances to arrive. They'd bandaged the wound and stitched it closed, but it wasn't even worth taking him to the hospital, especially with the GCPD demanding that he be released back into their custody immediately.

They did have more important patients to look after in their overcrowded hospitals – victims of the recent bombings. So the man, whose name was Nathaniel Wright, ended up at the county lockup for an hour or two and had been dragged into the interview room about half an hour ago where the cops and agents had left him to stew for a while as they tried to clean up the mess that they were in and sort through all of the information they had.

"So," Rossi spoke first as he sat down across the man, Gordon taking the other seat. "Nathaniel, isn't it?"

The man nodded and before Rossi or Gordon even had a chance to talk, words were spilling forth from his nervous lips so fast they could barely take it all in.

"Yeah, yeah, look, agent, cops, dude, whatever, listen, I didn't mean to shoot that lady, alright? She surprised me. I mean what was I supposed to do? She was a fed knocking on my door? But I don't know nothing about the Joker and Scarecrow, alright? All I know is the boss man told me to watch the warehouse, so I watch the warehouse. That's it, I swear. And I saw those two feds sniffing around out there, I got nervous, then the girl comes up and I didn't mean to shoot 'er, I swear! It was an accident, I didn't –"

"Alright, alright, Nathaniel, we get it," Gordon held up a hand, frowning at the young man. He was still fidgeting, clearly anxious just being in the room, eyes twisting around the place with fear and avoiding really looking at either Gordon or Rossi.

"It was an accident," Gordon continued, slowly, "We'll talk to the DA, make sure he knows…" it was making him a bit sick to reassure the slimy bastard in front of him, but they needed his cooperation on this one if they wanted any chance at getting to the Joker.

"But, come on, Nathaniel, you don't know anything, really?" Gordon raised a brow, "I'm having difficulty believing that."

His eyes were still darting around the room, fingers twitching restlessly, "No, man, no," he shook his head, "I don't know anything, I swear. They don't tell me anything. I'm small game compared to them, ya know? I just transport the drugs, that's it. Nothing else. I don't know where they are or what they're doing…"

"You had to have talked to him, Nathan," Rossi leaned forward, "Met him somewhere. Come on, tell us where he is. Or where you meet him. That's all we wanna know."

Nathaniel laughed, a nervous, anxious little whine of a sound, "No way, guys, I tell you anything and they'll kill me. They can get me in here, I know it. You can't protect me from shit. You can barely protect your own people."

Rossi scowled, "Well, if you don't want our protection, fine. But think about it, Nathaniel: how do you think they're going to react when we let you go in a few hours? Think they'll believe you when you say you didn't talk?"

The old profiler had to admit, it felt good to watch the bastard squirm a bit, eyes going wide with fear, "Y-You wouldn't do that? I shot that FBI chick; you cops take that shit seriously."

"We do," Rossi nodded, a dark veil falling over his eyes, "Trust me, Nathaniel."

"But there are rule," Gordon added, "We can't just kill a prisoner; we have to obey the law too… But the Joker? Crane? Think they're going to blink at killing some low level thug like you? You're not even that important, remember?"

Nathaniel leaned forward, hands shaking, "Come on, guys, you can't do that! C-Can you? Look, I don't know anything! I swear, they don't tell me nothing, alright? All I know is they were shacked up in some warehouse in the Narrows 'til that fire last night. They moved shop somewhere else, somewhere away from the docks. Maroni's guys hung out in the area or something. I dunno, ok? That's it."

Rossi frowned; about to demand a better answer when JJ tapped on the door and stepped inside, blue eyes wide, "Guys, Dr. Quinzel just walked into the station. She wants to talk to the Commissioner…"

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><p>Bruce's heart stopped. Everything stopped, his mind completely going blank for almost fifteen full seconds as he stared into the Joker's eyes. The word's he'd been dreading to hear, the words he was also sure he would hear, seemed to have knocked something down inside of him.<p>

So many questions ran through his mind after the initial shock passed. How long had the Joker known? _How _had he figured it out? Had he told anyone else? Why was he telling him? Bruce had always known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the day would inevitably come when _someone _pieced together who he was. And that day would lead to one of his – numerous – enemies finding out the truth as well. In reality, this had been set in motion several months back with Colman Reece and his snooping through the Archives.

Still. The fact that it was _the Joker _who knew his identity was probably worst-case-scenario. At least in Bruce's mind. The worst possible person to have figured it all out was currently grinning at him like a madman and Bruce didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do at this point because from where he was sitting, they had just lost the war.

_Keep it together! _The functioning part of Batman screamed at him. _There is no use falling apart now. This is when you need to fight harder, Bruce. Be unbreakable._

Bruce took a breath, steadied himself and met the Joker's eyes, a strange and ultimately uneasy calm settled over his features, but he still desperately played the dumb card, putting on his best incredulous playboy face and shaking his head.

He snorted, "Batman? You think _I'm _Batman? I'm Bruce Wayne. Someone would've noticed if I was Batman."

The Joker giggled, clapping his hands gleefully, "_I _noticed, Brucey. I noticed _lots _of things about you! I admit, you had me fooled for a _loooong _time, but you're not as good at lying as you think."

Bruce swallowed and shook his head, "You're insane,"

The Joker's features darkened and sobered instantly, shaking his head, "I am _not _crazy, Brucey. _Not _crazy," a sly smile twisted his painted lips, "I'm… _**observant**_, Brucey. At first, you were just boring, typical playboy Bruce Wayne. But then you vanished at that little _party _of yours. Everyone called you a coward 'cos you disappeared into that panic room, but Batman showed up. Now here's a question, Brucey… If you're not the _Bat_ then how did he get inside your penthouse 'cause I was _**there **_and I didn't see him come in?"

Bruce sneered, "Maybe you were pay attention,"

The Joker grinned wider, giggling, "Ooh, maybe not then, but there are _so _many other signs, Brucey. I'm amazed Gotham hasn't figured it out yet. Just what do they think you're doing anyway? That incident with the _lawyer … _that was what niggled my _interest, _Brucey. But ya know what _really _clenched it? What made me _certain _you were the Batman?"

Bruce didn't want to play this game, didn't want to answer at all, but the Joker's pause and expectant look were clear signs that he wanted a response.

"What?"

The Joker's eyes gleamed and he cleaned closer, "_Rachel Dawes_," he whispered the name in Bruce's ear, his hot breath making him flinch away. Just the sound of Rachel's name made Bruce a bit sick, her death was still like a stone in his gut and he didn't know if he'd ever forgive himself for it.

When the Joker pulled back and grinned at the obvious pain in Bruce's eyes, he continued, "Oh, Brucey, that was your one mistake, you know," he said, his voice high and songlike, the cheerfulness of it clashing horribly with the awfulness of the situation.

"I was _testing _a _**theory**_, Brucey. Bruce Wayne knew Rachel Dawes, she was his _friend_, but why should _Batman _care about her when his pal Harvey was in danger too? You chose _Rachel _Brucey. That's what clenched it. That's how I _know _you're Batman. If you'd done what Batman _should _have done, you'd have saved her, but you did what _Brucey _wanted and she died."

Something was definitely broken inside of Bruce now. He felt sick and he wanted very much to beat the smirk off the Joker's face. As far as Bruce was concerned he didn't have the right to even say Rachel's name and now he had the nerve to sit here and tell him it was _his _fault? The only thing that made it worse was that sometimes, Bruce thought the same thing, thought that if he'd been faster, if he'd made different decisions… Rachel might still be alive.

"…'S not h-his fault…" a pained, raspy voice suddenly caused Bruce to jerk his head toward the FBI agent. He'd nearly forgotten that Agent Reid was there at all. "Y-You killer her…"

The Joker's eyes gleamed as he turned to stare at Reid, that scary fire still lighting his eyes, "Look who's awake! Spencey, I've missed you!"

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><p>Dr. Harleen Quinzel was a mess, to say the least. She'd walked most of the way through the Narrows until finally getting a cab near the bridge and demanding to be taken straight to the police station. Now she sat, wrapped in a blanket, clean bandage on a small cut on her face, sobbing and choking a bit into a tissue as FBI agents and cops surrounded her.<p>

Too many fucking cops.

She fought the urge to scowl and instead shrunk back in the seat, making herself as small as possible. It wasn't really all that hard, honestly. She was already a pretty small woman and still young enough to make herself look vulnerable and frightened with the simple quivering of her lips and the widening of her eyes. Plus, two years of Drama courses and a summer at "Theatre Camp" had to count for something, right?

"Guys, clear the room," the commissioner swung his arm toward the door, frowning a bit. Harley had to force herself not to laugh at the way his mustache twitched when he frowned. He looked a bit cartoonish, which she found hilarious. She bet J would find it hilarious too. Of course, he found pretty much _everything _hilarious and sometimes even she would question his sense of humor.

Forsyth, the new DA, if she remembered correctly, stubbornly folded his arms over his chest while the cops cleared the room leaving behind the handful of agents and Gordon. She did a quick headcount while peeking over her tissue. There was the blond woman, the Italian man and the one who never seemed to smile – what was _his _problem anyway? – but where was the black guy and that brunette woman?

She was pulled out of her thoughts by Forsyth's voice, "I'm not leaving this time, Gordon," he said, "You people aren't keeping me out of the loop again."

She wanted to snigger again and had to force herself to focus on the tears. She was, after all, supposed to be a terrified victim. But seriously, who the hell says 'out of the loop' anyway? She let out a small whimper. She didn't like the guy and hoped Gordon could get him to leave. If he couldn't, she'd suffer through, but he gave off angry, douche vibes that made it difficult for her to stay in character, which was important right now.

"We'll keep you informed, Forsyth," the non-smiling FBI agent told him, "But this woman's been through a traumatic experience and we don't need to make it any worse."

"Besides," Gordon added, "I'm sure City Hall is a mess right now. You've got more important things on your plate,"

Harley wondered if they didn't like the man either, the way they pushed him out so easily. Probably some political thing, she decided. She knew Gordon had been friends with Dent before the guy went psycho on him. Maybe he didn't like Forsyth replacing him.

Forsyth sighed heavily, "Fine. But keep me posted, Gordon."

She breathed a bit easier once he was out of the room and hid a quick smile in her tissue before upping her sobs. She needed to be convincing, this was crucial. The blond woman sat down next to her and patted her should gently. How sweet. Kinda made her think about how her old friends had comforted her after parents had died. But that had been ages ago and this woman was trying to lock up J so she needed to forget about that.

"Dr. Quinzel?" the blond's voice was a gentle as her hand had been, quiet and reassuring. Must've been trained well to help "victims". "It's alright now, you're safe. You can talk to us…"

Harley let out another sob and wiped at the tears, shaking her head and fighting back a grin at the concern on their faces. Oh, this was going to be too easy.

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><p>Reid was still clawing his way back to full consciousness, but he felt a thrill of fear go down his spine when he saw the Joker's dark eyes gleaming in his direction. Just as a general rule, that wasn't a good thing at all. He couldn't exactly even remember what he'd said to make the Joker and Bruce turn to look at him. It was something about Rachel Dawes, he thought. That was what they had been talking about anyway, but the fact that he couldn't fully remember scared Reid a little. He hated drugs.<p>

"Now that Spencey's awake, the games can _really _begin!" the Joker said happily, eyes dancing as he pulled the chair he was sitting in back, perching himself directly between his two captives.

"Games?" Bruce frowned, eyes darting to the FBI agent. He didn't look like he had totally recovered from whatever the hell had knocked him out. His eyes were slowly clearing though, which was a good sign, but a tied up FBI agent wasn't exactly much help in this situation.

The Joker grinned, "You didn't really think I'd go to the trouble of inviting you to my… humble quarters without a reason, Brucey? I've got a fun game for us to play. Just like that game we played that night Rachie died…"

Bruce's eyes flashed with anger and the Joker giggled, seeming to enjoy that hatred very, very much.

"Joker," Crane walked into the room, only sparing Bruce a passing glance, his eyes darting more quickly to Agent Reid and lingering there. Bruce felt a little bit of relief wash over him them because that meant, at least, that the Joker hadn't told Crane who Bruce was. Why, Bruce had no idea, but one psycho knowing his identity was better than two.

"They've got things set up here and they'll be ready to go in the city soon too," a pause, "Are you sure this is how you want to start things? Just two bombs?"

Bombs. Both Bruce and Reid's eyes got wide and they glanced at each other quickly, fear and worry plastered over their faces.

"I _told _you already. Personal first,"

Crane sighed, "Are you going to explain why we need Bruce Wayne? Why the grudge against him?"

The Joker smiled a bit, "You'll see," he said, turning back to face Bruce and Reid, "Now Brucey, I need you to pay very, very close attention. There are two bombs. One… one is _here _and dear little Harley is about to tell Agent Reid's friends where to find us. Only we won't be here when they arrive…"

"Harley?" Reid cut the Joker off before he could continue, "But … You kidnapped her?" he sounded uncertain and the Joker grinned broadly, chuckling.

"Didn't I _tell _you Spencey? I _liked _Harley. But the poor girl's got a few screws loose, remember? I warned you…"

Reid blinked, thinking back to the day he'd met Harley – was it really only three days ago? – and the Joker's words that afternoon. He _had _told them that Harley was crazy, but Reid had brushed that off. She'd seemed so… normal. So sweet. So… naïve. Pretty easy to manipulate, if Reid thought too hard about it.

The Joker giggled again and turned back to Bruce, who was listening for the second bomb. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like it.

"The _second_ bomb is in your penthouse, Brucey. With that butler of yours. Alfred. Be a shame to see him splattered all over that expensive furniture."

Bruce couldn't help it, he reacted violently, eyes blazing, "You son of a bitch!" he tugged at the ropes, chafing his wrists and nearly toppling the chair, but he couldn't break free and that pissed him off even more. The Joker could threaten Gotham; threaten the whole fucking city, but _not _Alfred. Not him.

The Joker leaned back and giggled again, glancing at Crane, who watched the display in mild surprise, having not expected Bruce to react so viciously.

"Calm down, Brucey. I'm not _finished _yet. You can still save _someone. _But you're going to have to pick. See? Sounds like déjà vu, doesn't it? You can save Gordy and Spencey's little friends, or Alfie. Pick a direction and go."

"…Wait," Crane suddenly frowned, "You're going to _let _him go? Just… let him go? That's your plan? That's insane!"

The Joker scowled, "It's not debatable, Jonny-boy! Brucey gets to try and save someone."

"What is the point of that!?" Crane snapped, "IS there a point? Or are you even more insane than you look?"

The Joker's eyes darkened again, that eerie, terrible light flashing before his smile fell away and then, before Reid or Bruce knew what was happening – and certainly before Crane knew – the sound of a gunshot shattered their ear drums and Crane was lying on the floor, dead.

"I'm _not _crazy,"

There was something dark and awful in the Joker's voice as he slipped the gun back into his jacket and Reid stared at the body in shock, heart racing in his chest.

Bruce fought to steady his voice. He'd seem the Joker gun down his own men. Hell, that was half of his MO, but to shoot Crane so suddenly? That had been unexpected. But he had to keep it together.

"So that's what you're gonna do? Lace the city with bombs until it's all in flames?"

The Joker walked around to the desk and lifted a syringe, back to his grinning self already, eyes twinkling with delight as he slowly walked back around to face Bruce, "…Well, just two for now, Brucey. Just like last time, remember? You only get a chance to stop one. You can save dear old Alfie, or you can save those FBI agents with the Com-ish-on-er."

Before Bruce could respond he stuck the needle into his neck and the world went black.

The Joker tossed the syringe and his eyes flashed back to Reid, grinning broadly at the young agent, "Now, Spencey, I think it's time to go. I've already got somewhere new set up for us. Nice and quiet…"

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: **And ta-da! Nice, longer chapter again! Woot! Also, I'd expect chapter 18 very, very soon because I had a serious burst of inspiration and just wrote like hell on this and it's already mostly written.

Also, guys, I cannot stress enough: THIS IS GOING TO GO TO BAD PLACES. Like, whoa. For real. Very dark, or at least my interpretation of dark. You all might end up hating me for chapter 18, but… It's where the story has been heading since chapter one, honestly. And I've been warning you since chapter one.

Also, also… I had way to much fun writing Harley this chapter ;)

So, hope you enjoyed it! Please review!


	18. Ashes, Ashes We All Fall Down

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **Once more, and as always, huge thanks to those of you who reviewing and reading this! You guys are seriously the only reason that this story has made it this far and I really, truly, appreciate you all!

And, I am very pleased to *finally* present to you the FINAL chapter of "Everything Burns". Yes, that's right, this is the very last chapter and I cannot believe that it made it this far. I'd really like to take a moment to tell you guys how much I love you for sticking with me through this insanity. (There IS an epilogue coming, so this isn't entirely the end, of course).

I have to admit, this story has taken me longer to write than any other story that I've ever written on this site and is also the longest fanfiction I've ever written as well. And I am immensely proud of it, not to sound boastful, but I never expected it to be this well received. And I'm sitting here biting my nails about how you're all going to respond to this chapter because I honestly… I just have no idea what to say – I feel like none of you are expecting what's coming. That could be good, that could be atrociously bad and you might all just hate this. Which makes me terribly nervous, but I keep reminding myself that this is what I planned from the start and I can't change that because I don't want to make the readers angry – no matter how badly I want to, I've got to take the risk.

Now, final warning, this is quite possibly the darkest story I've written that doesn't involve any form of non-con, rape or torture and that is painfully clear in this final chapter. This is what I was warning you guys about from the start. Also, reading over a lot of the reviews I have to say I have never felt so guilty for NOT torturing a character (physically) before, ever.

Without further ado…

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><p><strong>Chapter 18: Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down<strong>

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><p><span>Previously…<span>

_Before Bruce could respond he stuck the needle into his neck and the world went black._

_The Joker tossed the syringe and his eyes flashed back to Reid, grinning broadly at the young agent, "Now, Spencey, I think it's time to go. I've already got somewhere new set up for us. Nice and quiet…"_

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><p>Bruce grunted when he woke up… wherever the hell he was. It took him far too long to adjust to his surroundings and he wondered what the hell the Joker had drugged him with, putting a hand to his head and fighting back a moan of pain. His head ached as he shoved himself up, immediately recognizing the world around him. <em>Shit. <em>He wasn't in the Narrows any longer. The Joker, or maybe one of the men working for him, had taken Bruce back across the bridge and dumped him in a dark alley in the middle of Gotham City.

With sudden force, the last words the Joker had spoken to him hit him and Bruce found his feet quickly, ignoring the pounding in his head and the protests of his muscles.

_"…Well, just _two_ for now, Brucey. Just like last time, remember? You only get a chance to stop one. You can save dear old Alfie, or you can save those FBI agents with the Com-ish-on-er."_

Bruce felt sick at the words as they sunk in, trying to push the haunting, terrifying image of the Joker out of his mind. One single-minded, determined thought entered his head. Alfred was in danger. There really was only one choice, Bruce knew that. Even looking around he could tell the Joker knew too. He was far closer to the penthouse than he was to the Joker's hideout, which he realized he didn't even actually know the exact location of anyway.

He only took a second to pat himself down, silently swearing when he realized that he didn't have a cell phone on him. No way to warn Gordon, no way to contact Alfred. His brain didn't pause to think or rationalize any sort of "plan" like he normally would have. This was Alfred and he wasn't about to let the Joker take another damned thing away from him. He'd taken Rachel, he wouldn't get Alfred too.

Because as soon as he saved Alfred, he was going after the Joker and he wouldn't stop, not until the Clown was back in Arkham where he fucking belonged. Some small, bitterly vengeful part of Bruce wanted to take things even further, wanted to stop the Joker permanently, but that wasn't Bruce Wayne and that wasn't Batman. Bruce knew well enough that murder was something he could never allow himself to stoop to. No matter what.

He was running, half surprised at the deserted streets of Gotham. It was so dark out, the street lights the only things lighting his way as he made his way home. It took him a moment to realize that most of Gotham – at least those that hadn't fled when the Joker reemerged from his prison – was probably indoors, doing the sensible thing and staying away from any potential danger. Especially in _this _area of Gotham where people had the luxury of not even really needing to go outside their homes for anything.

The penthouse came into view on the horizon and Bruce sped up, ribs protesting and screaming, muscles resisting at every step. But he couldn't stop. Not now, not when Alfred needed him most. He saw the few travelers on the road give him strange looks, wondering what Bruce Wayne was doing running down the street so frantically for. Didn't he have a car he could drive? Maybe he'd crashed it like he had his last Lamborghini a few months ago.

Bruce knew what they were thinking and didn't give a damn at the moment, ignoring the curious faces and the perplexed looks, forcing his strained and tired legs forward. He could just make out the lights now, the building lit up brightly in the dark night that threatened to swallow the city. A few more yards and he was at the entrance, lungs burning, sweat dripping down his face, sticking his hair to his forehead.

He only paused a second, staring at the doorman, whose wide eyes were locked on the billionaire, "Evacuate the building," his breaths came in painful puffs, "Get everyone… everyone out. Now. Joker… there's a bomb."

The doorman just stared at him dumbly and Bruce scowled, "Now, damn it! Right now! There's a bomb!"

The man finally snapped into action, fingers fumbling with the alarm button, the loud, piercing sound making them both grimace as the small man gripped his phone and began to dial 911. Satisfied, Bruce turned to run toward the elevators. He _had _to get Alfred out of here. Had to be sure he was safe.

"M-Mr. Wayne? What are you doing? You said –"

"I need to get someone!" Bruce snapped, not even turning around to look at the doorman as he jumped into the elevator and angrily punched the button to the penthouse suit. Unable to do more for the next few moments, Bruce leaned against the metal walls and pushed the dark hair from his face, silently begging Alfred to be alright. _Please, _he prayed, and he wasn't even sure who he was praying to, _please let him be alive. He's the only family I have…_

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>The Joker just seemed way too gleeful for Reid's tastes. He was practically giddy as he'd had his men – <em>Crane's <em>men, who were just too terrified to defy the psychopath's orders – drag a bound, gagged and slightly drugged Reid out of the house and shove him into the back of a ratty van.

Reid had spent the short ride – at least, he thought it was short, he couldn't be entirely sure given his semi-lucid state at the time – sitting in the dark space with the Joker at his side. The clown-faced madman held a blade in his hand the entire time, talking non-stop about all the fun he was about to have with Gotham City. About how much fun it was going to be to break the Batman. About how much fun he was going to have playing with "Spencey" once he'd taken his friends from him.

Now, Reid was once again tied up, this time with his hands bound behind his back by one of Crane's men, sitting in a hard wooden chair in what he was certain was an old warehouse. Typical. The drugs were wearing off now, the haze over his mind lifting and he could see the Joker's gleeful, impish grin so close it made him a bit sick.

They were alone. The Joker had sent the men out on "errands", which Reid was almost certain meant to get the rest of their supplies for the massive attack he planned on the rest of Gotham in the morning.

The Joker pulled a chair up to Reid, grin widening once he realized that his captive was coherent once more. "Ya know, Spencey, you're very calm," he said, "Given the _sitch-you-a-tion."_

Reid swallowed and forced himself to not react, though it was really hard to not panic with the Joker so close to his face. He almost had the urge to laugh because, what the hell was the Joker talking about? He was nowhere near calm! He felt like the world was about crumble beneath his feet and there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do about that and that was terrifying.

"I'm not calm," he admitted, his voice soft and steady, much to his surprise, "I'm just sure that my team will win."

The Joker's dark eyes were wide with fascination as he eyed the young FBI agent, "Don't _lie_, Spencey," he said, his words a bit harsh and sending a shudder of fear down Reid's spine. "You know Brucey's going to save his butler. He doesn't care about your team. _That's _his weakness, Spencey. The _people _he loves. Just. Like. You."

The last three words were spoken in an almost sing-song voice, the Joker grinning as he tapped the blade of his knife against Reid's neck in time with the rhythm. Reid sucked in a breath and edged himself as far away from the weapon as he could, twisting his hands in the ropes that chafed his wrists and realizing something he hadn't at first.

They were just a little bit too loose.

Heart pounding, Reid slowly and carefully began twisting his wrists in the bindings, keeping his eyes on the Joker and hoping he didn't realize before he could get free. _Keep him talking, _the profiler in him reminded him. _He likes to tell stories. Just keep him distracted._

"What about you?" he asked carefully, because it was the first question to come to mind.

"Hmm?" the Joker, for once, seemed confused and Reid didn't really blame him. It was a bit of a strange thing for him to ask. Still, it was a question and it would distract him. He hoped. He worked his wrists frantically, feeling the ropes give little by little.

"D- Do you have a weakness?" Reid asked, his voice sounding half uncertain as he eyed the man, "I-Is there anyone you… love?"

Oh, that got the Joker's attention. Something, Reid wasn't sure what exactly, sparked in those dark, fathomless eyes and for the briefest of moments Reid wasn't looking into a cavern of twisted madness, but instead into the eyes of perhaps the saddest, most broken man he'd ever met.

And just as quickly, the moment was gone.

The Joker's lips twisted up into a perverted version of his usual psychotic grin. It was far more forced, far more plastic than Reid was used to seeing on the scarred face. "Do _you _think there's anyone who could love a face like _this?"_

He circled his own scars with the blade in his hand and Reid was hit with the thought that this was probably the most sincere thing the Joker had ever said to him. He wasn't sure, at first, how to respond, but the ropes were starting to slide down his wrists now, almost to his thumb, and he needed to make sure the Joker stayed distracted.

"…Not even… Jeanie?"

For the space of a heartbeat, the Joker froze, shock plastered across his painted face as he stared at Reid. Then the shock fell away and was replaced with something Reid hadn't seen before. Pure, unfettered rage.

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>Gordon wasn't sure what to make of Dr. Quinzel's story about the Joker. The woman was in hysterics, practically sobbing as she told them all about what had happened since she'd been kidnapped. About the threats and the plans.<p>

"H-He's going to burn the wh-whole city!" she hiccupped, wiping her teary eyes. Her hands were shaky and her messy blond hair was tucked behind her ears, bruises on her wrists indicating where she'd been tied up. It made Gordon sick to think about what the poor woman had been through.

"Did he say anything?" he glanced over at Hotchner, who was leaning close to the doctor, locking eyes with her. "Tell you why he'd taken you? Why he took agent Reid? Anything?"

Harley gasped a bit, wiped her eyes again and shook her head, "N-No," she said, her voice shaking, "He just said – said he _liked _us. That we were _interesting._" Her lower lip quivered and she looked down, sniffling. JJ put a hand on the woman's shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly, glancing up at Rossi and Hotch.

"It's alright," she whispered gently, "You're safe now, Dr. Quinzel. He can't hurt you. But we need to know… do you remember anything about where he took you? What it looked like? Anything?"

Hotch had to admit, he was proud of JJ. One man down, Prentiss… gone and Reid kidnapped and she somehow managed to pull herself together to handle the case and the distraught doctor.

Slowly, Harley nodded, "I… When I escaped I got a good look at the h-house. I think… I'm pretty sure I can tell you ex-exactly where it is,"

The agents, and Gordon, stared at the young woman, frozen in place. The silence was almost tangible in the small room, none of them daring to speak at first, not believing that they'd actually get lucky enough to be led right to where the Joker was.

It was Gordon who finally broke the silence, his voice half-desperate as he leaned forward, "…Where?"

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>The second the elevator doors opened, Bruce burst out into the hall and hardly bothered to pause that door, the voice of Batman telling him that something was wrong because the door was standing slightly open and Alfred wouldn't have left it that way. At first glance, everything seemed normal, just the same as they'd looked before Bruce had left to find the Joker earlier. He certainly hadn't imagined returning this way.<p>

Swallowing, Bruce forced himself forward, not sure when the bomb was supposed to go off and the sound of the alarm blaring loudly in his ears.

"Alfred!" he yelled over the screeching alarms, "Alfred!"

There was no answer from the butler and Bruce's chest felt tight for reasons that had nothing to do with his bruised and broken ribs. He ran through the large den and burst through the doors to the kitchen, something inside of him twisting when he saw the pool of blood on the floor. His mind reeled against the possibilities that the blood represented and he stumbled around the island, nearly tripping over the still body.

"Alfred…" Bruce's voice cracked, barely audible over the alarm. His eyes were locked on the body, feeling something twist and shatter inside of him. That tight feeling in his chest growing exponentially tighter.

His longtime butler, friend and the only family Bruce had left in the world, the man who'd raised him from childhood, was lying on the floor of the kitchen, bright red blood in a huge, sticky pool around him, leaking from the gash on his throat. From what Bruce could tell, he'd been dead for several hours. Probably long before the Joker had even told Bruce about the bomb. He'd never even had a chance at saving him and that very thought made Bruce want to scream, to break down into a fit of hysterics as painful tears burned his eyes and he spun around, fist slamming violently into the wall.

The pain jolted him back to reality, at least partly. He pulled his now throbbing fist away from the rather large dent and took one more moment to gather his frayed nerves. The bomb could go off any second. He had to get out of here.

He stumbled towards the kitchen door, his movement far too sluggish as every single injury he'd received over the past few days seemed to intensify with the aching, unbearable pain that seemed to radiate from his very soul. He barely made it out into the hall, remembering that the elevators would be shut down now and regretting the penthouse apartment more than ever, when he felt the building shudder.

One last burst of adrenaline hit the broken vigilante and he ran for the stairs, bruised, battered, bleeding and on the verge of tears. He took them three at a time, but there was no way he'd make it out. Things were already getting hot, sweat soaking through as the building shook again, bits of wall falling and twisting. The heat intensified and he didn't even see the fire before was on him, engulfing him in its bright, consuming flames and he tumbled, screaming, and fell with the rest of the building.

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>The dark street was empty and cold and Hotch frowned, glancing up at the house. Gordon said it had once belonged to one of Falcone's men, before Dent became DA and locked up half the mob families. Now the house was abandoned and had been for a while. Perfect for the Joker to use as a hideout, especially given that he was working with Crane. Crane had been one of Maroni's contacts; of course he knew about the place.<p>

From the outside, it just looked like a house. A large one, especially for the Narrows, but still just a house. As soon as Dr. Quinzel had given them the information, they'd offered to call an ambulance, but the young woman had refused. She said she wouldn't feel safe there, even when they offered to post guards. So they'd left her at the station and gathered a tactical team, donned their flak jackets and headed for the Narrows.

Gordon couldn't sit still. Inside that house was very likely the Joker. The most dangerous of all the madmen that he had ever faced in his long career with Gotham PD. And he was finally about to close the book on the psychopath. For the last time, if he had anything to say about it. He was not going to let the Joker take his city. Not again.

They separated, surrounding the house and covering the entrances – there were three. The front door, the back door and the garage, which was sitting open to reveal the inside door which led to the garage. There wasn't a vehicle inside, but Harley had said she hadn't noticed one when she managed to escape, so they hadn't really expected there to be.

Silently, the agents and cops entered the house. It was quiet, no sound whatsoever, which Hotch thought was strange. He got a bad feeling as they split up, searching the downstairs portion of the house and not only finding no one, but finding nothing. No evidence that the Joker had been there at all.

A silent conversation with Gordon later, Hotch was leading the way up the stairs, gun in hand as they split up to search the rooms. JJ and Rossi took one side of the hall, Hotch and Gordon the other. They quietly opened doors, hoping to surprise anyone who might have been there, though by this point Hotch was sure _someone _had to have heard them.

It was when he and Gordon pushed open the door to the office that Hotch knew his gut feeling had been right.

Lying on the door, gunshot to the head, was Dr. Jonathan Crane. His pale, gaunt features were even more disturbing in death and Hotch fought back a shudder at the sight, but didn't get to spend too much time thinking about it because Gordon grabbed his arm and his head jerked up to see what he was staring at .

"Bomb!" Gordon shouted, already dragging Hotch back into the hall and screaming, "EVERYONE OUT! THERE'S A BOMB!"

It didn't take more than that to get them all scrambling from the house. They'd barely made it down stairs, Gordon still on the final step, when the bomb went off and everyone was sent flying as the house was ripped to shreds and the flames erupted, suffocating smoke and smothering heat sucking the air right out of their lungs.

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>Reid flinched back at the pure fury on the Joker's features as he leaned forward, eyes flashing angrily at the young doctor for a second, knife pressed underneath his chin threateningly. His voice lost that high-pitched, sing-song, mockingly childlike quality and was deep, gruff and angry. Each word hissed through clenched yellow teeth.<p>

"_How. Do. You. Know. About. Jeanie?"_

Reid took several shallow breaths and closed his eyes, mind racing, hands freezing as they tried to undo his ropes, just for a moment. There was something so much more terrifying about the Joker at this moment, like he'd dropped every visage of control, every mask, every layer that he used to hide himself behind and now, finally, Reid was able to get a glimpse at who he really was. And he who really was apparently didn't want to think about his past.

"I know… a lot," he admitted, choosing his words slowly, "About you, your past…"

The Joker's eyes flashed, "What do you know?"

Able to calm his racing heart, Reid began to twist the ropes again, continuing to speak, "You're real name is Jack Napier," he said, "You're wife was murdered by a few low level mob men two years ago and after that, you disappeared. You were found drugged and nearly dead months later, but you disappeared before the trial and no one's seen you… seen Jack, since."

The moment seemed to last a lifetime, the Joker staring into Reid's anxious, terrified eyes with that all-consuming rage and fire that made Reid suddenly wonder how the hell he wasn't dead yet when that look was burning into his skull. Slowly, the Joker pulled back, mercifully removing the knife from Reid's throat. Reid allowed himself to relax, taking a deep breath and feeling the rope slip past his thumbs, tugging them down and gripping them in his long fingers.

The Joker cocked his head to side and studied him, watching him with a new look on his face, a smile suddenly twitched his lips, "You're a lot better than I thought, Spencey," he said, his voice much closer to the Joker than the other voice had been. Reid had never thought he'd be relieved to hear that voice, but he would take it over the other any day.

"But there are still some _gaps," _he leaned close again, still looking into Reid's eyes, "I didn't hear anything about my _scars…"_ he lifted the knife in the same practiced motion that he'd done thousands of times, tracing the line of his scars on face and Reid saw his opening, letting the rope drop and lunging forward.

He managed to knock the Joker off balance and catch him by surprise, seeing the shock light his face for one brief moment before his longer fingers snatched the pistol that was concealed at the Joker's side. Fingers fumbled for the trigger as the Joker recovered from his fall and shoved himself up, that strange combination of fury and comical amusement on his face as he lunged.

Reid felt the searing, sharp pain of the blade, but fought back a scream, eyes going wide at the sensation and pulling the trigger on instinct.

At first, he wasn't sure that he'd gotten him, but the Joker stumbled back, the hand that wasn't holding the blade clutching at his chest and a bit of blood dribbled from his painted red lips before he fell.

Breathing harshly, Reid dropped the gun and grimaced, pain suddenly catching up to him. He hand went automatically to where he'd been stabbed and he looked down to see the bright red flower of blood on his torso, spreading out rapidly. For a moment, he allowed himself to be fascinated by the bloody pattern before his knees buckled under him and he fell to the floor.

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>Harley found it remarkably easy to slip out of the police station. They were all far more concerned about the Joker than poor, innocent little Dr. Quinzel. She almost laughed at how easy to fool they had been. A fear tears here, some tremors there and they bought into her story with hardly any effort on her part. Of course they did. Who'd ever suspect sweet, young, naïve little Harley anyway? Who could she possibly hurt?<p>

She only paused for a moment to stop by her apartment and change clothes. The ones she was wearing were dirty and ragged and her hair was a mess. She combed it and fixed it and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. The television was on in her living room and the news was already reporting the bombing of the apartment complex where Bruce Wayne lived. She frowned a bit when a reporter said a witness saw Mr. Wayne enter the building, but no one had seen him come out and he was unaccounted for.

He wasn't supposed to _die. _He was supposed to get his stupid ass out of the building, broken and torn to shreds. That was what J wanted, after all. But she dismissed the death just as quickly. If he _was _dead, it didn't really matter to her. Besides, he still had Dr. Reid to play with. Though, Harley had to admit, she wasn't exactly thrilled about that. He seemed to pay Spencer more attention than he paid her lately and that stung a bit, considering all that she'd done for him.

Still, she turned the TV off and immediately got a cab, still grinning from ear to ear when she told the man to let her out a few blocks away, giggling a bit at his concerned and curious look. She slipped into the alley between the warehouses and used the small key to unlock the door of the one where she knew he was waiting for her. It was quiet inside as her footsteps echoed across the floor and she made her way to where they'd set up the "living area".

The light, given off by a few small, battery operated lamps, reflected the blood that almost looked back to her eyes and she dropped the key she was holding in her hands, the smile slipping from her face entirely as she took in the sight of the two crumpled bodies.

"J! NO!" she screamed and rushed to his side, falling to her knees beside him and lifting him up, fingers searching for a pulse, staring at the messy, greasepaint smile that still stretched eerily on his face. Her tears began to splatter as she gripped his limp form to her chest, not even caring about the blood that was staining her clothes as she rocked back and forth, sobbing in the dimly lit warehouse.

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: **So… Did I warn you that it was going to be dark and realistic or what? *chews lips* Seriously guys, I TOLD you. I WARNED you. I cannot be held responsible for this.

I'd also like to say, once again, that I am immensely proud of this story! Like, just really proud of it. And I never thought it would get beyond the simple oneshot that it started as, but since it did, I want to tell you guys where I got the idea for this… reading an article on about all the possible ways Christopher Nolan was going to end his Batman series (obviously this was BEFORE The Dark Knight Rises, which I *still* haven't seen). This little plot bunny formed and that's my only excuse. I wanted to write dark, gritty, realistic story and I think I managed to do that fairly well. At least, I hope I did.

And I hope you guys can forgive me for this. Really, I do. 'Cos I'm truly sorry.

But it's technically not over yet, the **epilogue is coming soon**! Promise!

Please review! (Let me know you don't _all_ hate me… and that this wasn't a totally epic fail because, again, so nervous…)


	19. Epilogue: Don't You Cry No More

**Title: **Everything Burns

**Rating: **T

**Pairings: **None

**Warnings: **Mild language; Angst; Violence; Gore. Read at your own discretion. This isn't for children guys.

**A/N: **So, first, as always, many, many thanks to everyone for reviewing! It really does mean a lot to me that you guys stuck with this story 'til the very (bitter, sad, tragic) end. I know that was probably a bit hard to read, but unfortunately, not all endings are happy and we're talking about the Joker here. He racks up a body count.

Anyway, I know present you guys the epilogue and end of "Everything Burns"! Thank you all for your support, it means a lot to me!

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><p><strong>EPILOGUE:<br>****Don't You Cry No More**

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><p><em>"It's not about the money. It's about sending a message. Everything burns."<br>_**-The Joker, TDK**

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><p><strong>Three Weeks Later:<strong>

A veil had fallen over Gotham City in the last few weeks. The citizens went about their lives with somberness in their eyes. There was no small talk, especially not today, of all days. There were whispered conversations about the events that had occurred less than a month earlier. Black curtains and flags hung from buildings in the center of Gotham, flying gently in the wind as a slow, sad march played through the streets.

District Attorney Brian Forsyth stood at a podium in the center of the crowd of black-clad Gothamites, the stage behind him occupied with a large Jumbo-Tron television that played a slideshow of smiling, bright faces and contrasted violently with the heavy mood.

The sun was shining down on them, the sky a beautiful shade of blue and yet none of them took any joy in the good weather. Not now.

Behind Forsyth, seated on the stage, were the family members of those who had most recently died. It was a sad, eclectic group, to say the least. Jim Gordon's family sat at one end, his wife's tears spilling down her face while his two children clung to each other and their mother, his daughter Barbara wrapping her arms protectively around her brother and staring with tear-filled defiance at the crowd of mourners. Jessica Brooks sat, red-eyed and stiff, with small Jack Hotchner, clutching the child to her chest and silently wondering how she was supposed to help him through the loss of another parent. Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss had even flown in and sat next to Sean Hotchner, stiff and unmoving, her face gave away nothing, but her mascara was smeared beneath her eyes. William LaMontagne Jr. sat holding his son Henry, who was squirming a bit in his arms and didn't quite understand what was going on. Their faces blurred together to the crowd looking forward, families of the SWAT team who'd fallen victim to the Joker's final bomb in the Narrows and all the victims who'd died in the Complex bombing that same night.

Behind them, the surviving members of the BAU sat. Derek Morgan, arm still in the cast it had been in after the Joker's first bomb, sat next to Penelope Garcia and a battered, pale Spencer Reid was on his other side. Pale, bruised and still feeling the occasional twinge of soreness, Reid should probably have felt lucky to have survived at all, but instead he simply felt broken. His family had been the BAU and now, most of them had been wiped out in a single night.

"Today we honor the victims of the madman who called himself The Joker," Forsyth was saying, speaking slowly and clearly into the microphone. "His spree of terror and destruction came to an end with a heavy cost to us all."

He waved a hand toward the television that was flashing the pictures of those who had died and Reid's eyes instinctively followed the movement, grimacing as the face of the Prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne, flashed before him.

Forsyth began rattling off a list of the dead and Reid fought not to flinch. The list was a long one. Everyone inside the house in the Narrows bad been killed in the bombing – twelve people in total. Eight more lives had been taken by the bomb in the apartment complex with five more in critical condition. Despite the building being evacuated, the collateral damage of the building coming down had been massive. And that wasn't even counting the lives taken in the bombing of City Hall – nearly thirty people had been killed that night.

"These people," Forsyth continued, "Died as heroes and we should not darken their memory with that of the monster who engineered their deaths. Jack Napier, the man known by most of you as the Joker, is dead, and while the end of this is tragic, we will never forget what we learned in these dark times…"

He kept talking, but Reid wasn't really listening anymore, his mind going back to the time he'd spent with the Joker, farther back to the day he'd first met the monster. Forsyth could talk all he wanted about remembering the fallen, about honoring the deaths and finding strength in tragedy, but Spencer Reid was certain he was wrong.

They could honor and remember them all they wanted – they were still gone, which was what the Joker had wanted in the first place. He had wanted to destroy Gotham and in the end, he had won. Gotham could pretend to move forward, to move past this tragedy, but the citizen would never really move on. Too many innocents had been taken, too much had been destroyed and rendered pointless by the laughing, scarred face of a madman.

The Joker's identity had been revealed shortly after his death, and with it came a story of horror and twisted nightmares that would make most sick. Of course the tragedy in Jack Napier's life didn't excuse what he had done, but it brought the infamous "monster" down to a human level. It proved him _right._ Everyone is capable of becoming a monster, if only you know where to push them.

And finally, Forsyth ended his speech and there was a long moment of silence that was so thick, so desperately awful that Reid got the urge to scream. He was ready for this to be over. He didn't want to be in Gotham anymore, not ever again. But of course, he did still have one more place he had to go before he could put the city behind him for good…

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p>"Are you sure you wanna do this, Reid?" Morgan asked as he and the younger man walked down the halls, being led by the guard. Morgan had become, if it were possible, even more protective of the younger man since the bombings. Reid had very nearly died and would have, too, if it hadn't been for Harleen Quinzel, whose loud sobs aroused the suspicions of police and they found her, clinging to the dead body of the Joker, and Reid, lying of the floor, unconscious and bleeding out from a deep stab wound.<p>

Some nights Reid wasn't sure if he was grateful to have been found alive, or if he resented it. He didn't feel like he had the energy to keep going anymore and he wasn't sure that he wanted to try, but he did anyway. Because that's what people expected from him: that he keep trying.

He nodded, "I have to, Morgan," he replied, "You can call it closure, I guess. I need to know why."

Morgan sighed and nodded, "Yeah, okay, Pretty Boy,"

Reid managed a small smile at the nickname, but the smile was quickly gone as the guard opened the door and allowed them to enter the room. It was a small, grey room with no windows and one table set with three chairs. In the chair opposite them, dressed in a white uniform, her blond hair pulled into pigtails, sat former Dr. Harleen Quinzel.

Her blue eyes were lit with a terrifying light, sad and haunted. Her hands, cuffed together, were fidgety and her fingers laced and unlaced themselves seemingly of their own accord.

"Spencer!"

For a moment, she smiled as she saw the familiar FBI agent, but then the smile was gone and she tilted her head, "I never thought you'd come to visit me."

Reid didn't say anything at first, instead quietly taking the seat across from her and looking her in the eye. Morgan remained standing, crossing his arms and watching the two of them with dark eyes, almost daring Harley to do or say anything that even resembled a threat.

Finally, Reid spoke, taking a deep breath, "You requested a visit," he said carefully, "Here I am."

Harley sighed heavily, giving Reid a sad look that made the young agent feel a twinge of remorse. There was still some part of him that wanted to reach out and help the girl; she was young and smart, but somehow had allowed herself to get tangled up in this mess and still didn't see where she had gone wrong.

"I did," she said, "Didn't think you'd actually come, though. I thought you hated me…" She spoke without really seeming to give much emotion. Reid could tell for sure if she regretted that he might hate her or not. She was more difficult to read than he would have expected.

"I don't hate you," Reid was almost surprised to hear himself say that and he could practically feel Morgan's surprise radiating off of him in waves. Harley quirked a brow at his statement and he continued, "Honestly, that would be pointless. I seriously doubt if you care one way or another how I feel about you, but if it matters, I don't hate you. I feel sorry for you, most of the time, but at least now you're where you should be and getting the help you need."

Harley smiled, "You think I'm crazy, don't you, Spencer?"

"No," Reid said, "I think you're misguided and you're probably suffering from Dependent Personality Disorder. I've spoken with your doctor. He seems to agree with me."

Harley made a face, "DPD? Really, Spencer?" she shook her head, "That's the excuse you've come up with for why I did what I did? I did it because I _loved _him. Because he wasn't the monster everyone said he was! He was –"

"I know," Reid cut her off, "You were the only person who didn't look at him and see the Joker. You looked at him and saw Jack Napier. You didn't see the mass murderer who'd nearly destroyed an entire city, you saw a man who was broken and tired and alone."

A soft smile touched her lips, "You do understand,"

Reid nodded, "But that doesn't make what he did okay,"

"I never said –"

"I know you didn't," Reid cut her off; "You only wanted to help him, right?"

She nodded vigorously and Reid sighed heavily, "He didn't need help, you know," he said slowly, "Not that kind of help, at least. You were never going to change him, no matter what you were telling yourself. _He _was changing you."

She seemed to think about that, "Maybe you're right," she conceded, "But I would do it again, the same way every time. I'm not sorry, because he was right, ya know? In the end? He won."

Morgan scowled at her words, but Reid's face remained passive and he heaved a heavy, sad sigh.

"He was," he agreed. "And I think that's probably the saddest thing about what happened. He was right and now we have to live with that knowledge every day."

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><p><em>The End<em>

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><p><em>"Sometimes human places, create inhuman monsters"<br>_**– Stephen King**

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><p><strong>TDK-CM<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: **And that, my friends, concludes this story. I cannot even begin to thank you all for sticking with this 'til the end and I really, really appreciate all of your feedback and support. You guys are amazing and I loved you all for reading, reviewing and following this! It's been a long time coming, but the end is finally here and I had such a great time writing it. Thank you all!


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